Not With a Bang
by OhGreat
Summary: Long before Stevie turned to stone, she liked to kiss Alex on the neck when no one was looking. Stevie, Alex, and the relationship that no one ever talked about. S/A, multi-chapter. COMPLETE.
1. How She Fell

_not with a bang _

**CHAPTER ONE**

"How She Fell"

* * *

"You look nervous."

_She_ looked nervous. Right. That's a good one.

"Pssh, what? No. I'm down for this. It was my idea, Nichols."

"Mm. Okay. Then why are you hesitating?"

In her own world, Alex was an authentic rebel without a cause, but Stevie was one-uping her at an alarming, uncomfortable speed. God, Alex's mind raced, she was less rebellious than she realized. Her parents didn't give themselves enough credit. Something buzzed, and she looked down at her phone with an uncertainty that said she must be in trouble for something. Justin. She turned it off and shoved it in her pocket, and then said, "…I am _not_ hesitating. I'm just…I'm _planning_."

"Right. Planning. Do you want me to believe that or should we just call this off?"

Alex threw Stevie an exasperated expression, sitting back from the sink and then waving off the jab. "I'm not hesitating. I've just never permanently dyed my hair before; I just…gotta think about it."

Stevie didn't buy it. "What's there to think about? Just dye it back if you don't like it."

"That's not it." Alex stared at the bleach in Stevie's hands. "I'm all for anything my parents tell me not to do, but bleaching my hair is, like," Alex held her hands three feet apart from the other, "phenomenally asking for it. Yeah, us hanging out? Gone. My life? Over. Justin? He'll probably get my room after the funeral." She was already on her third strike as it was.

Stevie raised an eyebrow. "What's this? A dramatic Alex? Do I even know you?" Alex did something like snort and then pushed the dye away. Stevie gave her a faux frown before fingering her own bangs. "But mine look fantastic—it's like pronouncing your rebellion without buying all the studded belts and tongue rings."

"Ooh, tongue ring, now that I could hide easier."

Never missing a beat, Stevie winked and pulled open one of the bathroom drawers, rummaging through it without even remotely looking at its contents. She held up something sharp, pointy, and decidedly painful-looking. "Perfect, I have a needle right here."

"I knew there was a reason I liked you," Alex said, pushing the needle aside with a laugh, "yeah, thanks, but no thanks. Maybe later if I feel like losing my ability to talk."

Somewhere in the recesses of Stevie's house a clock struck eleven-thirty; on a regular schedule, Alex would be indefinitely screwed—her curfew was a stifling ten p.m. when her parents were feeling their most brutal. Yet out of pity and a general understanding that yes, Stevie had parents, Teresa had given Alex permission for a sleepover on a Wednesday, and promptly reminded the world that this was an exception to curb Alex's rebellious streak. It wasn't really working.

For the most part, Alex and Stevie were totally alone. Stevie's mom wasn't so much a parent as she was a depressed, pill-popping junkie, currently asleep in the living room one story down. Stevie expressed the most sincere wishes for her well being by flipping her intoxicated mom off and flocking upstairs with Alex for the night. It was a tradition well understood and rarely confronted.

"So, then, you're pretty much on your own," Alex obliviously pointed out as they watched television on Stevie's bed a half hour later. "I don't know if that sounds amazing or terrifying."

Stevie flipped, unenthusiastically, through the television channels, the dimmed blue lights reflecting off her face as she finally rested on a censored version of _Girl_, _Interrupted. _"Nah, it's great. I never needed my mom, anyway. She's a joke." Stevie leaned back into the pillows, glancing over at Alex and moving closer. "I like being alone."

"What about your brother?"

Stevie shrugged. "Coward who's better off rotting wherever he is. I don't need him, either."

The movie had gone to commercial. Stevie muted it, filling the room with a comfortable, sleepy silence. Alex closed her eyes.

"Hey," Stevie murmured, nudging her. "Hey, Alex."

It was too early for sleep—Stevie was a well-rehearsed night owl, and nights spent in companionship were far more welcoming than those with her mom. Without thinking, Stevie brushed her fingers against Alex's face, moving a strand of hair out of the way.

Alex's eyes opened immediately, her face alert with a combined sense of discomfort, curiosity, and confusion. The two girls, closer than they had ever been, stared at each other with a wavering amount of uncertainty.

Even with their first meeting, there had always been something like a latent attraction between Stevie and Alex, first sparked by a general disdain for authority, second by their mutual intrigue. But what surprised Alex was that the feeling was not unlike her attraction to Dean or Mason; it was a sense that being friends just wasn't satisfying enough. Whatever that meant, it had a hold that wouldn't loosen. But at the same time, there was a different yet dark comfort about Stevie that Alex found…addicting. She couldn't really put it into words, but it went something like this: lunchtime hangouts and classroom note-passing left much to be desired.

But when Stevie leaned in, their faces only inches from each other, Alex felt a jolt of panic hit her lungs, and she quickly looked away.

Alex cleared her throat, awkwardly sat up, and asked if she could have a glass of water. Stevie sighed and said she'd go get her one.

* * *

School was inevitably more awkward, but Alex didn't do awkward well. When she saw Stevie hanging out by her locker, Alex shrugged the night before off like clothing and waved. Whether it was the downward glare of the lights or the possessions in her locker, Alex didn't make eye contact with Stevie—but whatever. It didn't matter.

"You see Laritate this morning? Lost his bolo. On a rampage." Stevie grinned widely, and Alex's stomach suddenly felt upset.

Retaining her rebellious charm, Alex brushed off the discomfort and opened her locker. "Sounds dire. What are the measures we need to take?"

A glimmer ran through Stevie's eyes, and she leaned in.

The tension rose, implicitly sexual and isolated, which Alex could have appreciated if the context had been different. Acting cool, she tried to find something to say. "What're you thinking?"

Stevie smiled deviously. "Let's go to the beach. We'd be totally alone."

Alex's shoulders dropped. "Really?" Fantastic. Just what she needed right now.

"Uh, yeah, it's ten in the morning on a Thursday. Who else's going to be there?"

It didn't take long for Alex to find out. An hour and a bus ride later, both girls were sticking their feet in the water of a very empty Manhattan Island waterfront.

The beach was home to a few other passerby, but Stevie was right for the most part—they were alone.

"So, the rebellious Alex has never ditched school for the beach before," Stevie announced, shrugging her shoulder into the other girl. "And you've never dyed your hair blonde or pierced your tongue…what else am I missing?"

"Please," Alex scoffed, untouched by the insult, "I ditch school to annoy Justin and to get the three extra hours of sleep my parents think I don't need. Besides, I go to a prepatory school with an academically-obsessed brother and best friend. You don't know how grateful I am for you."

"Aw, I'm touched."

"Plus, I bet you've never rearranged your brother's bedroom to look like his parents kicked him out before."

"…No, no that would be all you."

As things quieted down, Stevie kicked some water at Alex, who froze before smirking as wide as a crescent would allow. "Oh, you just set yourself up for failure, Stevie," Alex warned, running her hands through the ocean and splashing Stevie all around.

"This sounds like war," Stevie declared, and for the next half hour they proceeded in utterly defeating the other, and Alex did not notice once the amount of times Stevie grabbed her waist, or the odd urge Alex had to fall into Stevie and stay there.

When they ended up back at Stevie's place, Alex wondered where the day had gone, and what exactly led them there. Stevie's place at two in the afternoon made sense—her mom was gone, and when she'd be back was anyone's guess. Alex's own house was out of the question. It was a definite negative to be living in the same building where your parents also worked all day. She hated entrepreneurs.

"Barbs bought ice cream—want some?" Stevie had the freezer door of their refrigerator open, pointing to a big tub of mint chip ice cream. 'Barbs' was apparently Stevie's mother. The cool felt good against the choking heat of the day, and so indulging was a unanimous decision.

The kitchen was old and poorly designed. The interior wallpaper was well beyond its lifespan, pealing in strips down the sides of the walls and curling in an ugly manner. Two of the overhanging lights weren't working and cast a dim, lukewarm shadow across the room. Pots and pans were unwashed on the sides of the sink, and when Stevie opened the fridge to grab the ice cream, Alex noticed it was virtually empty.

They sat in silence in Stevie's bedroom, watching tv just like the night before, pretending that an episode of The Simpsons was unearthly interesting. Unintentionally, Alex made the habit of glancing at Stevie every five minutes, which Stevie eventually noticed and responded to by smirking.

Annoyed at being caught, Alex tried to shake her weird feelings, standing from the bed's edge and looking around her friend's bedroom. It was an odd room, perfectly rebellious yet it held an underground, activist air Alex was unfamiliar with. Stevie's walls were covered with posters of old revolution propaganda from various wars throughout the 19th century. At first Alex had thought they were indie rock bands.

Stevie's bookshelves told a similar story. They were stocked with historical reference books on every war and revolution Alex could remember from the few history classes she had paid attention to. It was…different.

"I'd lend you one, but I like my books as books, not doorstops or heavy objects to throw at people," Stevie joked in reference to her collection of texts, startling Alex, who realized Stevie was standing barely a foot from her body.

Alex laughed half-heartedly. "What are you? A closet brainiac or something?"

Stevie grinned sheepishly, leaning against the bookshelf with her arm draped near Alex's head. "Yeah, so?"

"You should tell Justin you have more books than he does. It'll be great. He'll freak out," Alex teased, and both of the girls laughed together. When the room quieted down, Stevie moved in closer, and their diverted gazes suddenly locked together.

"I'm glad you're here," Stevie said, brushing a set of fingers just below Alex's shoulder.

There were things Alex did not do, and shiver was one of them. But at that moment, she could feel a shiver dance up her spine, daring to trespass on the foreign territory that was Alex Russo's nerves. She blinked and tried to find some remote form of rational thinking. Rational. Hah. Sure, why not.

But it was clear to Alex that Stevie wasn't half as confused as she was, and like Alex, Stevie got what she wanted.

They stared at each other.

It was a maddening whole minute before Stevie leaned in and kissed her.

Like she'd been hit in the stomach, Alex lost her breath.

It wasn't just Stevie's lips on her mouth, it was her hands at her face and their slowly closing eyes and that urge from the depths of their stomachs called want, with neither really sure what was going to happen; hands through hair and the taste of teeth, unsure how far to go and where to go and if there was even a destination at all. It was the uncertainty of the moment, the fear and excitement both girls could feel curtailing in their chests, but it just made everything better, the intensity of not knowing but wanting it so bad…

Alex had to break away first, just so she could get a chance to breathe. It was like waking from a bizarre, intoxicating reverie.

"C'mere," Stevie murmured, stepping back from the kiss and taking Alex's hand. They moved toward her bed, Stevie in the lead, gently pulling Alex along.

If Alex could respond at all, she wasn't going to, and at that moment she was undoubtedly trying to figure the situation out, for the first time in her life. When Stevie asked, "Is this okay?", she moved closer with the same uncertainty, watching Alex's eyes and then smiling softly. "It's just me."

By then Alex was getting her wit back. She said, "Yeah, I know, give me a minute. I'm trying to remember how to formulate words." Stevie grinned as Alex breathed out.

"I can stop," Stevie murmured, but her actions were less convincing than her words. Neither girl tried to move.

Yet there was something daring in the way Alex looked at Stevie, and before Alex had a chance to finish her thoughts, Stevie kissed her again, this time with less hesitation and more passion, placing her hands to each side of Alex's waist as she did.

It felt nice.

Alex pulled back, trying to figure out the sensation on her lips. "I've never really—" She trailed off, annoyed with the total cop out she was acting like. What was she trying to explain? Since when had she _ever_ thought twice about anything? She wasn't Justin, she wasn't Harper, and what she knew right now was that she liked Stevie, and she wanted to like her as much as she could. To hell with whatever thought process was trying to make her back off.

Shoving her thoughts into the back of her brain, Alex threw out a smirk and said, "Why'd you stop?"

Stevie breathed a laugh, pressing her forehead into Alex's and whispering, "I really like you," before kissing her slowing on the lips.

The nervousness that had defined the kiss only moments before was gone; now there was a certain aspect of desire that overtook their movements. Alex, still gaining her ground but never the pushover, drew her hands over Stevie's neck and kissed her back, the foreground of the room dissolving into a flash of blurry scenery.

The drapes of the bedroom were closed, casting the area in near complete darkness, despite it being the middle of the day. Stevie maneuvered them both north until Stevie's legs hit her bed, and she tentatively moved onto the comforter, pulling Alex down with her and grinning into the kiss.

Alex's heart rate was ridiculous. She couldn't calm down. Stevie appeared to somewhat notice, and she took hold of Alex's face, pecking her lips.

"Would you breathe a little if I promised only kissing and the occasional stomach graze?" Stevie was all teasing as she moved in closer. And then she said with seriousness, "I just want to be with you right now, that's it."

Alex snorted at her sentimentality. "I'm no wimp, Nichols, I'm just adjusting, that's all."

"You make a lot of excuses for a rebel."

Stevie was joking, but Alex seemed totally insulted by her accusation.

"Hardly," Alex murmured, and she pulled Stevie's face down to hers, kissing her as hard as she could.

* * *

A/N: **Chapter 2: Stevie deals with her loneliness and frustrations. **

I love this couple. Stevie is totally Alex's soulmate. But I _hated _what they did with Stevie's character, making her "evil" (the last time I checked, fighting for the underdog and wanting to equalize power is, um, good, not bad). I'd replace Harper with her ANY DAY.

So, this story is a mix of both Stevie's and Alex's third person POVs. It's going to take place over the four episodes Stevie was featured in, but the time line will be VASTLY expanded.

This chapter is also before Stevie and Alex reveal their powers to each other. I also realized my geography is totally off, and they probably couldn't get to a beach within an hour, but for the sake of this story, just pretend they live near a beach.

Chapter 2 chapter 2 chapter 2, anyone? It's delicious, I promise.

**Review**! Support this underrepresented couple!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Wizards of Waverly Place. **


	2. Lonesome One

**CHAPTER 2**

"Lonely"

* * *

The night after Stevie kissed Alex, she sat down at her desk and pressed her head against the wooden surface. The noise of the tv downstairs seeped through the carpeted floor, and the lukewarm air settled down on her neck and shoulders. There was only one poster on her wall that she could see. It was blue, sarcastic, and totally stolen. It reminded her of Alex.

She smirked, then smiled.

A month passed. It was everyday at lunch that Stevie would quietly entwine her fingers with Alex's beneath the lunchroom table. She'd lean in now and then and brush their shoulders together, and on her most daring days, breathe a kiss into her hair. What started as a game soon transformed into something else, visible to only those who looked for it.

They had started a relationship no one would ever talk about, but if they knew, they'd never stop talking.

When the school bell rang and the halls emptied, Stevie languidly hung around Alex's locker, watching her clean out its contents with a provoked sort of fascination.

"I've never seen you clean a thing since I've met you."

Alex told her not to get used to it. "Really, I'm just trying to find an excuse not to go home. They're rearranging the Sub Station furniture. I don't do physical labor."

Stevie raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you just use magic?"

It had been a glorious new step in their relationship once they'd introduced each other to their wizard counterparts, and with it their own ideas of irresponsible magic. Revealing their wizard identities had serious perks. Yet neither had really breached the mortal world until Stevie started sneaking into Alex's room with a flip of her wand whenever she wanted. It was most likely every parent's nightmare, but Stevie had made a lifestyle out of breaking into places with silence.

Alex snorted. "Hah, funny, using magic to minimize work? Tell that to my dad."

Stevie's magical intrigues were generally more of the illegal kind; the idea of responsible magic was so beyond her that something like parental control was terribly laughable. She continued to smirk and then watched Alex give up cleaning her locker.

"Eh, I'll try again next year," Alex decided, shutting the metal door and forgetting its contents.

"Want to come over and pretend to do homework?" Stevie offered, tugging on the belt loops of Alex's jeans, hoping for a yes.

Alex had pursed her lips, teetering back on the heels of her boots. "I would, but I'm already pretending to do homework with Harper today."

_Ugh_.

The smirk on Stevie's face dropped almost instantly and was replaced by a look of exasperation. "You've been with her all week—sharing you is annoying, Russo."

It was generally true. As much of her soulmate as Alex was, Harper was decidedly _not_, demonstrating on more than one account how totally opposite Harper was from Stevie. Whereas Alex considered Harper's charms endearing and loyal, Stevie found Harper incredibly obnoxious, nosy, and too smart for either of them. She didn't know what to do about this problem called Harper.

* * *

Stevie soon learned Harper was more omnipotent than she was comfortable with. The girl was _everywhere_. With her annoyance rising, all Stevie wanted to do was kiss Alex and ask how her day had been, but Harper was always there, and she wasn't even trying to be this frustratingly oblivious.

It happened like this:

On an obligatory study session (because Alex's D+ was starting to look a lot like an F), the three of them ended up in the library, foreign to all but Finkle. Up until then, Stevie had never even set foot in the school's library, and Alex had made a ceremonious pledge to avoid overtly academic environments that weren't a classroom.

They wound up sitting at a table near the front, three yards from the librarian's desk. Stevie. Harper. Alex. In that order. Probably on purpose.

Harper had taken it upon herself to go over that week's homework material, out loud, to Alex, who seemed completely used to it and was already half asleep. Okay, so Harper was only doing it because Alex was close to failing the class, but Stevie wasn't, and thus found it ridiculously annoying.

"And then the uprising started in 1904…"

"It was 1903," Stevie interrupted loudly, garnering a nasty look from both Harper and the librarian.

Harper glanced down at her notes, then back at Stevie. "That's not what the teacher said."

"Well, the teacher's wrong."

"What, did you use your miraculous wizard powers to go back in time and check?"

"No, I read it in a _book_, Harper."

It was incredibly obvious Harper and Stevie weren't getting along. Alex didn't care. At all. Exerting the effort to make them friends was way beyond her realm of humanitarian deeds.

It took a while, but Stevie realized she didn't have to be there just because Alex was. She pushed from the table and wandered to the back, looking around for the history section. After various wrong turns and a threatening glare from a passerby, Stevie found the area on revolutions in the very back, bottom shelf. It was a sorry collection. The ten or so books they did have were torn and in poor condition; most were outdated, and at least half were historically inaccurate. She owned almost all of their updated counterparts.

Stevie scanned them quickly, and upon coming to the last one, realized she didn't have it in her own private collection. It was a thin, mostly tattered piece of leather on the Mexican revolution, and Stevie never passed up anything insubordinate. Crouching down, she started to peel off the barcode and check-out card, completely intending to steal it.

A few seconds later, Stevie heard heels clacking down the aisle way, and she knew it was Alex.

"Nails would probably be more helpful for that," Alex suggested, crouching down next to Stevie and taking the book from her. The barcode was off in a matter of seconds.

Stevie smiled when Alex handed it back. "Who would've thought acrylics were so helpful?"

When Alex tilted her head and smiled in return, Stevie leaned across the space between them and kissed her on the mouth.

* * *

The more time Stevie spent with Alex, the less she liked to be alone. Home was a pathological mess of immorality and botched up secrets, and Stevie was realizing with gaining momentum that a normal life was more or less possible if she stayed far away from her apartment. Yeah, so she had screwed her brother over by locking him away, but Warren wasn't the moral sage everyone thought he was. Her family was raw yet overcooked, lacking all the right ingredients to taste good.

The girls were watching television in the Russos' living room one random Friday night. Teresa was upstairs, and Stevie had her arm wrapped comfortably around Alex as they pretended to care about an episode of _Lost_. The heat was on, and the way their bodies fit together was so eerily right that Stevie felt like dozing off.

It never happened, because in the next minute Alex said, "I hear footsteps." She nudged Stevie, who yawned and lazily took her arm away. Seconds later Teresa walked in, laundry basket in one hand and phone in the other.

"Hey, mom?" Alex called, completely ignoring Teresa's phone call and the overbearing load of clothes she was holding against her hip. "Can Stevie spend the night?"

Teresa, who was less involved in Alex's life than she realized, waved her hand as an affirmation before returning to her phone call and leaving the room.

Stevie raised an eyebrow. "I could've just snuck in. Now your parents won't leave us alone," she chastised, slumping back into the couch with frustration.

But Alex just laughed conceitedly and leaned over. "No, you don't get it; the moment I ask permission for _anything,_ my mom instantly forgets what I'm doing. It's amazing." She placed her head back on Stevie's shoulder. "No one will care."

"Wow, you're more devious than I thought," Stevie replied, smirking, until she remembered a certain other household member. "What about Harper? This isn't some slumber party."

"Oh, no worries," Alex said, totally unperturbed, "it's the third Friday of the month, which means its Steaks and Sewing Club Night. She'll be gone until eleven."

Stevie pondered the events of the club and concluded that it sounded like fun. She supported this by saying, "Hey, anything that offers steak for dinner…" She trailed off as Alex gave her an amused look. "They sew steak on dresses, don't they?"

"Yes," Alex said very, very seriously, and both girls quieted down.

After another half hour of watching television, Stevie and Alex moved upstairs to Alex's bedroom. Stevie found Alex's room both interesting and hilarious: her walls were _fuzzy_. The first time she had been over to the Russos, she couldn't stop petting the walls—it was like having a feathered boa stapled to your headrest.

It was nice to be alone again, but the occurrence was rare, and quite frankly, Stevie doubted it would last long. In any of her past relationships, she had never had this much trouble getting someone alone without ditching school all of the time. But Alex was more infectious than she realized and was—consequently—becoming worth it. Stevie couldn't seem to get enough of her. She found herself absorbed in the simplest things Alex did, and it came as an uncomfortable surprise that she was growing dangerously close to forming an attachment to her.

They settled onto Alex's bed, absorbed with the other and forgetting the rest of the world, or at least the other occupants of the house. Stevie ran a hand against Alex's stomach and kissed her deeply, tying her arms around the girl's back and pulling her body upwards. She could feel Alex's hands in her short, messy hair, and soon Alex started kissing Stevie's neck, leaving reddish marks beneath her jaw line as she did. Stevie grinned and closed her eyes…

Until there was a loud knock at the door.

They both froze.

"Hey, Alex, your mom told me you're having a sleepover…"

Harper.

Stevie sighed and dropped her head into the nape of Alex's neck. "The lights are off. Maybe she'll think we went to sleep."

Suddenly there were sounds of Harper trying to open the door. In panic, Alex flailed and smacked her head into Stevie's, and both girls let out a loud yelp.

Harper, hearing little yet deducing a lot, knocked on the door again. "Are you okay? Why is the door locked? Is Stevie making you do drugs?"

Stevie threw an irritated look to the door as Alex stood up and quickly woke her hibernating laptop from its slumber. She handed it to Stevie and told her to look up a band on Youtube.

"Sorry, Harper, I was dozing off," Alex called out, throwing a sheet and pillow on the ground as a pathetic attempt to make Stevie an alternate bed. She strolled to the door and flicked on some lights before inviting Harper inside. "I thought you were supposed to be at your sewing club tonight?" She made no attempt to hide the deadpanned tone of her supposed concern.

Harper, who looked energized but slightly irked, shrugged. "One of the girls brought a vegetarian to the group. She wasn't very pleasant." Harper glanced around Alex's room. "I thought since everyone's sleeping over, we could watch a movie. Want me to make popcorn?"

It was suddenly decided that they would watch a movie, there would be popcorn, and there would be three people participating instead of two. After Harper had left to go get food, Stevie walked over, shut the door, and stared at Alex. "Are. You. Serious?"

Alex threw up her hands. "What am I supposed to do? I can't just tell her to leave—we're having a 'sleepover', remember?"

Stevie looked as if she wanted to argue this, but instead rolled her eyes and proverbially admitted defeat.

Twenty minutes later, the three of them were crammed on Alex's bed watching _Run Away Bride_. Harper was squeezed between Stevie and Alex, which was becoming ridiculously commonplace, both literally and figuratively. Again, Harper hadn't meant to do this, but Stevie was on one side of the bed and Harper was on the other, and Alex came in late, and then the movie wouldn't work, and somehow their order got mixed up.

Stevie knew it wasn't really Harper's fault. Actually, she had a feeling that if Harper did know she and Alex were dating, Harper would have gladly given them some space. But she didn't know, and so Harper was inclined to think Stevie was encroaching on the Alex-Harper dynamic that they called their 'best friendship'. And Stevie couldn't really blame her.

But it was still irritating as hell.

Stevie glanced over Harper's head to Alex, who was oddly bewitched by the stupidity of the movie. She had an eyebrow raised and a smirk on her face, which Stevie found adorable.

"I don't get why she's run away so many times," Alex announced, completely missing the point of the movie, "if she didn't want to get married, she shouldn't have bought the dress." And then she cast the movie from her thoughts and looked at Stevie, who was smirking at her with a provocative expression.

Harper had fallen asleep, and so Stevie motioned for Alex to come around to the other side. Alex squished next to Stevie and wrapped her arms around her, settling her head right beneath her chin.

They fell asleep.

* * *

"You know, for someone who hates history, you're sure staring at my bookshelf a lot," Stevie declared while reading magazines on her bed one day. "If you promise to actually use it, I'll lend you one."

Alex was across the room, studying the shelves full of history books with a sudden, unexplainable interest. She scanned each shelf before saying, "Aww, you think I read. So naïve," Alex murmured. When she finally seemed satisfied with the contents of the bookshelf, she turned back to Stevie and said, "I gotta run, but I'll see you at school tomorrow."

Stevie looked up quickly. "But you just got here," she said, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. She threw the magazine aside and stood from her bed.

Alex shrugged. "I have to appease my mom for a good few hours by going furniture shopping with her." She moved over to Stevie and rested her arms on her shoulders.

A breath escaped Stevie's lips as she gave her a fake pout. "Give me a good ten minutes with Teresa—I can get you out of it." She didn't really want Alex to leave; it just meant trying to avoid Barbs and hoping she had downed enough alcohol to pass out for the rest of the night. To show her defiance of the situation, Stevie snaked her arms around Alex's back and pulled her closer.

They kissed for a while, Stevie prolonging their embrace a little more than usual, until Alex broke from her and smirked. "See you tomorrow, Nichols." She winked and headed to the door.

Stevie, who didn't feel like playing along, murmured a depressed goodbye and slumped back to her bed, grabbing the discarded magazine and feeling a whole lot worse than she had a few hours ago.

Alone now, her roomed seemed so much smaller, the walls covered in posters that had little meaning out of context, the floors littered in papers and laundry she would probably never get rid of. Since she had met Alex, Stevie hated her loneliness. The gratification she once had as a loner was now irritating and heavy, weighing down on her body like it was mocking her.

She didn't want to be by herself anymore. She didn't want to lose her magic.

She felt stuck. She felt lost.

Stevie spent the next three hours reading through her books on forgotten revolutions, admiring the rebel leaders that stood strong for the underdog, who never backed down. They were fearless and unafraid of the isolation that came with fighting the powerful, the wicked, the evil. They lost everything but gained backed so much, shifting the hierarchy and giving the weak the power they needed: a voice.

It was then that an idea struck Stevie, one that she had thought of in the past but had dismissed. She glanced at her computer, the cogs in her brain cranking in a way that sparked a dangerous curiosity reminiscent of Stevie's past. She reached for her laptop's keyboard and was almost hesitant on what she was about to type in…

The ring of her phone made her jump. Stevie's hand retracted from the computer, detouring to her nearby cell phone. It was Alex.

She didn't mean to answer with a whisper, but her voice sounded raspy on the phone even after she tried to clear it. "Hey you," she murmured, drawing her knees up to her chest and waiting to hear Alex's voice.

Alex was quiet on the end before she asked if she could come over and stay the night.

Stevie would never say no, and after she had ended the call, she shut her laptop and pushed it away.

The idea that had taken over Stevie's mind was forgotten. At least until Alex left the next morning.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Harper finds out.**

A/N: For those who are curious, they aren't sleeping together. They just kiss and cuddle. ;)

Before anyone flames me, I like Harper. But I was trying to write Harper from Stevie's point of view, and quite frankly, I think they would _despise _each other. Anyway, I wanted to throw in some of Stevie's fears and loneliness as a backdrop to her interest in starting a revolution. What do you think?

Review! Review! Support this adorable couple! Thanks very much for all of your reviews last time! And **musicallymaddhatter**, you are so incredibly right about the Alex-Stevie subtext. ;)


	3. The Suspicion of the Brilliant

**CHAPTER 3**

"The Suspicion of the Brilliant"

* * *

Harper was not stupid. By the age of seventeen she had won nearly every academic honor in her division, and those she hadn't won, she was in the process of winning. She liked the minute details of things and scrutinized the hell out papers, projects, and exams until she had a sort of uneasy monopoly on every piece of knowledge out there. It was why she found people like Justin attractive and people like Stevie an utter abomination.

The feeling of being replaced by Stevie had long been forgotten, but her presence was still unfathomably irritating to Harper. There were times when they got along, but the bad times dominated the good, and it was a miracle they could sit at the same table together. They didn't bicker or fight like enemies should have; they just ignored the other's existence until one of them had to eventually leave. Harper joyfully reminded herself that she, not Stevie, lived with Alex at the end of the day.

Little did she know Stevie was crashing in Alex's bedroom nearly every night of the week.

Harper was inherently suspicious of Stevie and her goals. The way she acted around Alex wasn't half as nonchalant as Stevie thought it was. Harper noticed. She noticed the way Stevie leaned into Alex, the casual graze across the shoulders, the suggestive looks.

Stevie could hit on girls. That was fine. But hitting on Alex was not okay.

Until one day at lunch.

Alex was sitting next to Stevie in the very rear of the cafeteria. Harper had walked in at a weird angle, maneuvering past tables through a path people wouldn't normally take. She was coming up to the side of them from a position that only showed their backs, and that was when she saw it.

Alex's hand was laced securely together with another hand, and it took Harper a very confused minute to realize she was holding Stevie's hand underneath the table. And then—out of nowhere—Stevie raised Alex's hand to her lips and quickly kissed the back of it.

And then it was over. Harper blinked, and in a sort of dazed, puzzled trance, walked to them and sat down at the table. Stevie was busy eating her sandwich, and Alex was unenthusiastically flipping through a magazine. It was like nothing had even happened.

"Huh, right now you kind of look how I look after I see Justin trying to find a date," Alex joked to Harper.

Harper ignored her and glanced at Stevie, who was ignoring Harper in return. The cycle continued.

"Hey, let's go see a move tonight," Alex suggested, and Harper happily assented, trying to get the image she wasn't sure just happened out of her head.

But even the movie wasn't enough to ward off her confusion. Throughout the entire film, Harper kept glancing over to Alex and Stevie, expecting to see them holding hands under the darkness of a movie theater, but there was never, well, anything. In fact, Harper continued to scrutinize the pair so heavily that at one point, out of frustration, Stevie snapped, "You know, the movie's over _there_."

Ugh, that lazy, obnoxious, sarcastic little brat! Harper thought as she slumped back into her seat and didn't move throughout the rest of the movie.

But she was still not convinced, even after the film ended and the credits rolled down the screen.

As they walked into the main lobby of the movie theater, Alex stepped awkwardly and tripped, sending at least half of her soda onto her blouse. Both Stevie and Harper quickly grabbed each of her arms, but the mess was already made.

Alex swore under her breath. She didn't have her wand, and besides, people were staring.

"I have an extra shirt," Stevie offered, pulling what Harper thought was a ripped up old white rag out of her book bag.

It took Alex a full five minutes to change in the bathroom, which left Stevie and Harper standing uncomfortably by each other, waiting in the silence that usually filled their time together.

"So…the movie was good," Harper commented when Alex came out of the bathroom.

Stevie snorted. "How would you know? You were staring at us the whole time."

Harper glared. "Did you make that shirt out of a bunch of ancient, unwashed towels?"

"Of course not. If I did, it'd look like something you made."

Their argument ended with Stevie as the victor, only because Alex interrupted them and demanded Harper's attention to discuss a trip to the beach over the weekend. But Harper was hardly there. She was convinced there was something going on she didn't know about.

They eventually made it to Alex's loft, where the three girls stood outside the front door chatting.

Defeated and tired, Harper expressed interest in a late night study group over at friend's, extending the invitation to Alex, who blatantly laughed as if it was a joke. Harper shrugged, turned around, and started heading back down the stairs, when something in her gut made her freeze. In a secretive and almost diabolical manner, she broke from her initial destination, turned around, and crept up the staircase, nearing Alex's front door.

Stevie and Alex were still talking, a little closer together now. It seemed perfectly normal.

Harper silently chastised her own insecurities and suspicions, about to return downstairs, when suddenly her eyes widened in total shock.

Stevie's hands had crept around Alex's waist, and she murmured, "God, you look so good in my shirt," and leaned in and kissed Alex on the lips.

Harper froze, and despite its seemingly consensual nature, was immediately convinced Stevie was a sleazy lech who preyed on unsuspecting high school delinquents. That was, until Alex wrapped her arms around Stevie's neck and proceeded to kiss her back.

And it was not just a kiss. It was full on _hunger_, the way Stevie's arms fastened around Alex's back so tightly that Alex was pushed upward onto her toes; the way Alex's hands were through Stevie's hair, tugging her forward; and there was tongue.

Harper couldn't breathe. It was like she'd been hit in the stomach with a baseball bat, and feeling slightly sick, she turned around and headed toward the exit.

* * *

Stevie was in a good mood. She walked down the stairs, Alex on her thoughts, and looked up.

Harper was standing at the base of the stairs, arms crossed.

Stevie froze. Oh, shit. _Ohshitohshitohshit._

Neither had to say a thing. Harper _knew_. In the same way she solved most problems in her life, Stevie unconsciously reached for her wand, only to have Harper grab her wrist.

Harper glared. "Let's go for a walk, Joan Jett."

The shock of seeing Harper had boggled Stevie's mind. If she had been even slightly herself at that moment, she would have backfisted Harper's face for that derogatory comment.

Regaining her composure, Stevie snorted and effortlessly twisted her wrist from Harper's grasp, walking past her and saying, "Lead the way."

* * *

They sat, as most people who disliked each other did, on opposite sides of a Waverly Place coffee shop table, glaring at each other.

Harper refused to say anything. Stevie didn't really know what to say.

The silence edged around them in an almost boisterous, suffocating fashion, making the discomfort of the situation twice as obvious.

Fed up and irritated, Stevie leaned in and said in response to the deafening silence, "Want me to magic up some chirping crickets so this can be even more awkward?"

Despite the fact that faces just couldn't contort like that, Harper's glare seemed to deepen to impossible depths, and Stevie was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Look, Harper. Alex has tried to tell you a few times now," Stevie said sincerely, trying to get on the angry monster's good side, but sensing she was failing. "But you always got so pissed whenever she mentioned me. She stopped trying after that."

Harper's expression didn't change, even when she said, "Oh, I know she's tried to tell me. Just thinking back now, I can see she's tried three or four times." Harper paused. "But it's not Alex that I'm mad at. It's you."

Stevie internally rolled her eyes. Yeah, big shocker there.

Another awkward, stifling stretch of silence passed. Harper's stare never budged. Like it was a challenge, Stevie stared back, coldly.

Finally, Harper asked. "How long?"

"What?"

"How long have you two been together?"

Stevie was unsure of how to answer that. Lying through her teeth seemed to be the best route to take, but even she was getting a little tired of hiding her relationship with Alex. Finally, Stevie said, in a very direct voice, "Four months."

The tension of the conversation had yet to dilute, and it had instead taken on a whole new level as the pressure of Harper's enduring glare crushed into Stevie's shoulders. This was not going well, and Stevie hadn't even stopped to think how Alex was going to react to all of this. A major success point of their relationship was that it was a total secret.

"I don't approve." Harper crossed her arms.

Stevie gave her a smug expression. "And I don't want your approval. We have _so_ much in common."

That, unfortunately, was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Harper's cool composure evaporated almost instantly and she snapped, "You are by far the most obnoxious, self-centered _thing_ I've ever met—And I think you're awful for Alex—"

Stevie blanched. "_I'm_ obnoxious? You have got to be the loudest, most irritating know-it-all on the planet, and that's including your clothes."

Harper's face, which had finally softened back to its normal state, immediately tensed again, and Stevie silently smacked herself, realizing she was not making this any easier for either of them. She knew she had to fix this, but her arsenal of apologetic phrases was premature and tended to end with _get the fuck over it_. "Sorry," Stevie finally said. "I didn't mean that." Pause. "I'm just—I don't know. I'm nervous, I guess."

It was clear smug expressions and snarky attitudes wouldn't be enough to get Harper off her back—or to prove she wasn't just stringing Alex along.

Stevie was generally bad at expressing sentimental emotions in front of people that didn't come off half-way sarcastic. But Harper, at least as long as she held the role of Alex's best friend, deserved some form of respect. Stevie sighed and pressed her fingers against the sides of her temples before running her fingers through her hair in exhaustion.

"I think I'm in love with her, Harper," Stevie finally confessed, the words rolling thick and heavy off her tongue, foreign and nerve-racking like she was giving a public presentation to a group of people. And it wasn't so much something she was unsure about. Stevie _knew_ she was in love with Alex. When she looked up to face Harper's reply, she was surprised to see a gentle expression taking over Harper's eyes, so far removed from the angry girl she had been only ten minutes ago.

Stevie felt relieved and took it as a sign to continue. "Look, I don't know how to explain it; she's rebellious but she's _good_—I feel like everything's going to be okay when I'm around her—" The words spilled out, awkward and nervous, and Stevie felt embarrassed for even saying them out loud. She decided to stop. She had met her stupidity quota for the year.

Harper still hadn't said anything, and Stevie was nearly out of ideas. Finally, Stevie snapped, "Do you really hate me that much?"

Harper looked taken aback, but Stevie's outburst had at least started some form of a response. Harper very directly responded, "I never said I hated you. Well, I really, really, _really_ dislike you, but that can change. I think it's starting to right now," Harper added.

Apparently their conversation was going to be fueled by bouts of silence, because neither said a thing after that.

Still an awkward mess, Stevie was about to say thank you, but Harper jumped in first.

"You know," Harper said, "at first I thought you were the one influencing Alex, but it seems like it's the other way around." A ring echoed throughout the café, and Harper glanced down at her phone. Alex.

She smiled. "She's my best friend," Harper murmured, sending the call to voicemail. She looked up at Stevie. "She's dated a lot of people before, but you're the first...uh…."

"Girl," Stevie deadpanned, trying to help Harper along.

Harper looked embarrassed. "Uh, right." The same awkwardness that had initially dominated their conversation flooded back, and Harper quickly defeated it, saying, "But not only that, Alex's most successful relationship has only been a couple months…I just don't want to see her get hurt."

With that final phrase, they had somehow come to an agreement that—maybe—Stevie wasn't so bad for Alex after all. That maybe she did love her.

That maybe this would be okay.

Harper sighed. "Alex's calling again." She looked at Stevie. "Do you mind if I hang out with her tonight? I think this might take a while."

Harper's response caught Stevie off guard, but it was oddly reassuring. Stevie nodded, and Harper stood from her chair.

"See you tomorrow," she said, and then as she was heading to the door, ended with, "It might take me a while to understand this whole thing, but right now, I can tell you make her happy."

Harper left the shop, and Stevie took a much needed deep breath and sat back into her seat.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Stevie and Alex. Alone. Possibly with shots of tequila. **

**A/N: **It seems most of my readers have disappeared, so if you're reading any of these chapters, I would love to hear your thoughts.

For someone who doesn't like Harper that much, I think I did her POV justice. And she was actually a lot of fun to write in this chapter; it's great to pen a third party narrative to really understand the Stevie-Alex relationship. Also, because I know no one will get it, the Joan Jett and Stevie dress similar, and Joan Jett is also gay. Get it?

If you review I'll give you cookies! You all want cookies, right? Or carrots, if you want a healthy alternative!

And thanks to the anonymous **Chachacheese** for your super cool review, it made me crazy happy. ;)


	4. Maybe Someday

**CHAPTER 4**

"Maybe Someday"

* * *

Stevie was not the daughter of a rich man. She wasn't the daughter of a rich woman, either. By the age of ten she'd discovered tarot cards and had concluded, unfortunately, that fate disliked her. A lot. She possessed no form of luck, good or bad, and was forced to rely on the wit she was born with as a way to get through anything. There just happened to be a lot of obstacles to get through.

It was like a natural predisposition of Stevie's to absolutely hate authority figures. It didn't have to be law enforcement or teachers—even the receptionist that filed students' academic records pissed her off. Centralized power of any form was enough for Stevie to blacklist an entire set of people who thought they were just doing their jobs.

Wizards were just as bad. The anatomy of the Wizard Council was a design based exclusively on power alone. The fate of any wizard was left up to a table of ten fat men and what they thought responsible magic was. It was so obviously corrupt that Stevie could map out all the lies on a single piece of paper.

When she tried to explain this to Alex, she was relieved to find her surprisingly on board.

"Oh, yeah, I hate teachers," Alex said, taking a bite of her salad at lunch, "except Mr. Gordin. He's like Brad Pitt's less famous but equally gorgeous cousin."

Stevie sighed. Or not.

"…Out damn spot, out I say!" On the other side of the cafeteria, Harper was performing Macbeth, and in Stevie's opinion, making it worse. She tried to drown out Harper's acting through the musical inclinations of her iPod, but there was just no room for concentration today.

A guy at the table in front of them snickered something loud enough for Stevie to deduce they were making fun of the Lunchtime Shakespeare Players, and Stevie, in her new efforts to treat Harper like a human being, flicked a carrot at the back of the boy's head and kindly told him to shut the hell up.

Alex smirked and said something along the lines of "nice aim", to which Stevie bowed sarcastically.

Disappointingly enough, that was the extent of Stevie's lunchtime excitement. She glanced around the room and then slumped back in her chair, distracted by her thoughts of having to go home in a few hours.

At the end of the day the three girls stood at their lockers, collecting their things.

Harper was talking with Alex about a boy she liked. Stevie had her arms propped up in her locker, cradling her head.

"…Are you okay, Stevie?" Harper asked as she and Alex stopped in mid-conversation, noticing Stevie's weird position.

"….I have a splitting headache," Stevie mumbled, thinking about her brother and mom.

By then, Alex, even as innately self-centered as she was, had learned to set aside a daily dose of concern for her girlfriend, even when she didn't particularly want to. She couldn't seem to help feeling uncomfortable. She strolled forward and placed her hand on Stevie's back. "You can nap at my house, if you want. I have to do some homework—no, really, I'm two assignments away from failing Reynold's class if I don't—so I'm going to be stuck in my room for a while."

Stevie felt the love but couldn't find the energy, so she mumbled, "I'm fine…I'm just going to head home."

Alex and Harper glanced at each other as Stevie took out her wand and disappeared.

* * *

Her mom wasn't there when she got home, and so Stevie headed upstairs to her room, turned on her computer, and sat down.

Around five months ago she had magically (and illegally) cross connected the Wizard Web with her own electronic computer, making other-worldly Ethernet access insanely easy. The only problem was the swap made the Wizard Web frustratingly unreliable—she could only access it for a few hours a day before the alien network threatened to crash her mortal laptop. Using an actual wizard's computer would solve the problem, but with Warren in magical limbo and a powerless mother, gaining access to one just wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

Stevie ignored the warning signs her computer was giving off and accessed the Wizard Web anyway.

She was instant-messaged almost immediately by a user she'd met randomly a few weeks ago. His name was Gio or something, a cyber-wizard with a penchant for hacking.

**Gandolfs_a_fake:: hey, here's the site you asked for last week.**

Stevie glanced over at the box and then leaned in with interest, clicking on the link that appeared just after the message. A window popped open containing a website filled with nearly five hundred signatures.

**Gandolfs_a_fake:: I told you people over there would be interested.**

Impressed by the number of names printed on the petition, Stevie quickly wrote back,

**AlexIsMine12: Thanks man. I owe you one. Keep me updated if more guys contact you.  
**

Stevie did the math in her head: the new five hundred names now added her total up to 2300 hundred.

She sat back and sighed. That wasn't nearly enough.

At half passed eight there was a low ring from somewhere in her room. It took Stevie a few seconds to realize it was her phone, buried beneath a pile of sheets and clothes that would never be folded. Springing from her bed in an embarrassingly desperate fashion, Stevie tore through the contents of the pile until she at last unearthed her cell phone.

It was Alex, who immediately asked, "You better?"

"Yeah, just needed sleep."

"Good. You and me. Food. Now," Alex said, her mouth full of….food. Stevie smirked and rolled her eyes.

"Can't we just make out instead?"

"No, I'm starving."

"I'm not enough? I'm hurt."

In less than a second Alex was already in her room. "Oh come _on_, Nichols, let's go," Alex urged—as if she never really had any intention of asking Stevie in the first place.

It was then that Alex noticed on the nightstand next to Stevie's bed a large, opened, and partially drunk bottle of tequila.

She snorted and pointed to the nightstand. "You actually drink that?"

Stevie glanced over to the glass bottle and shrugged. "Every now and then. You haven't?"

"What do you think?"

The two girls stared for a second before a smile spread across Stevie's face.

* * *

Way before taking the tequila shots, Alex looked furiously stunning to Stevie. She had her hair down in perfect tangles, spilling over her shoulders onto a black spaghetti strap top, her collarbone pronounced against the dimness of the room.

Alex brought the rim of the bottle to her mouth and tentatively downed the liqueur; her nose scrunched up and she stuck out her tongue. "Ugh! That's awful!" She pushed the bottle away from her and handed it back to Stevie, who was laughing.

"I never said it would taste good," Stevie teased, taking a swig of her own and giving it to Alex again.

Alex eyed the bottle, took one more drink from it, and shook her head. "Yuck," she complained, "I tried. You can have the rest." Then she took another sip. "Okay, it's not getting any better. I'm done."

"Let's see…Oh, I know…" Stevie murmured, glancing around the room as Alex gave her a weird look. "It's just juice," she teased when she grabbed a bottle of Gatorade from her backpack and tossed it to Alex. "When you take another swig, drink that right after…It'll make it taste better."

Alex disagreed, who, after following Stevie's directions, still made a face that suggested she'd been fatally poisoned.

With much better style than her counterpart, Stevie took a drink and smirked at Alex, who was watching her with a sort of envious curiosity.

They were similar on nearly every level, but their upbringings had led them down separate paths with different consequences. Stevie knew Alex's rebellion was limited to high school pranks and sibling throw-downs, which was weird, but Stevie was also experienced with pranks and delinquency, just at a different stage. The degree to which Alex's parents participated in Alex's life was both mortifying and admirable to Stevie, who couldn't decide if that much parental presence was a good thing or completely ridiculous. They were a text-book family if there ever was one, and Stevie couldn't believe Alex hadn't ripped her hair out years ago. But at the same time, the Russos, well, _cared _about each other. Stevie sort of liked that.

"What're you thinking about?" Stevie murmured, watching as Alex watched her back.

Alex mirrored Stevie's smirk. "You, and also how nasty that crap tastes, but mostly you."

The only light of the room was a small lamp on the floor, dim and forgotten as it cast shadows across the walls and ceiling. They fell over Alex's face with a sort of artistic melancholy that Stevie could relate to, quiet and secret but still vibrantly clear. Alex could be breathtakingly gorgeous even under the driest circumstances.

"I'm thinking about you, too," Stevie said back, making room on her bed as Alex sat down in front of her.

Alex, whose tolerance level included punch and water only, was fairly buzzed now, and when she tried to move closer, she stumbled and landed against Stevie's shoulder. They laughed lightly, their breaths against the other's body, warm and comforting.

Stevie observed Alex for a second, entertained by her drunkenness, and then pressed her forehead to the other girl's.

Alex said nothing. Instead they sat in silence, the numbness of the alcohol relaxing their bodies like a warm summer's day.

The comfortable glow of the situation was weirdly reminiscent of the first time Stevie ever saw Alex. It was her first day at school, and Stevie, new to Tribeca Prep and enormously bored, saw Alex through a crowed of people. It was like she was a bunch of hypotheses tied together, because Stevie could only guess what she was like, how she would act. She remembered watching Alex from the other side of the cafeteria that Friday before detention, an instant connection surfacing. It was unexplainable and mind-boggling, but Stevie couldn't shake the feeling—she had to talk to her.

The memories that suddenly flooded back were amusing, because Stevie never thought they'd actually end up in a relationship—at least not like this, sitting in her bedroom with provocation all around them.

Stevie, now back to reality, told her lightly, "You know, when I first met you I was actually nervous…I ended up vandalizing Laritate's office just so you'd notice me."

Alex pulled back slightly, opening her eyes. "I noticed you before that."

Stevie opened her eyes as well, surprised. "When?"

"It was probably your first day. You walked passed me in the hall, looking for your locker." She paused and raised an eyebrow. "I wanted your jeans."

Alex's confession was so tactless that Stevie actually started laughing. It was so like Alex that Stevie couldn't help but lean in and cup Alex's face, pressing her lips to her mouth in one quick motion.

Alex murmured something and then kissed her back.

They didn't know where it came from, but there was an underlying sense of distance they were both trying to get rid of as they kissed over and over. Their actions at first took a gentle route, light grazes and chaste pecks, before developing into a more unbridled sense of emotion.

Stevie had slipped her tongue into Alex's mouth and was kissing her deeply, brushing her hands over her shoulders and eventually cupping the back of her neck. Alex did something like giggle, but even a buzzed Alex seemed to refuse such a stupid action, and it came out like a girly yelp instead. They kissed for a while until Alex sat up awkwardly, catching her balance, and setting one leg over Stevie's hips, straddling her. It was an attempt at closing the gap that took the stakes to a slightly higher level. Their bodies fit together in an almost puzzle-like fashion.

Stevie, who was sitting up-right with her back against the wall, grinned into the kiss, collecting her hands at the small of Alex's back before sliding her them into her jeans' back pockets.

Caught in the moment, neither noticed how far the other was going. They seemed to devour each other with a delicate mixture of want and respect, the girls navigating the other's body in a way that broke boundaries. Alex's hands slid down Stevie's stomach, tracing alongside her ribcage as Stevie's own hands cupped her glutes.

The heat of their embrace escalated, the low laughs and gentle atmosphere now overwhelmed by their desires, the background fading into nothing. Without really thinking about it, their positions shifted, and Stevie could feel her own hips resting on top of Alex's, fitting together in an oddly feminine way. Their arms and legs tangled together, heavy breaths and low gasps their sudden dialogue.

Nothing else mattered then, but when Stevie's hands grazed the hem of Alex's jeans, she hesitated. She didn't know why; this wasn't new to her, it wasn't something she hadn't done before.

Their lips lingered for a second, and Stevie glanced down at Alex's stomach. "…Do you want to…?"

Neither was uncomfortable with the subject, especially when it involved each other, but their relationship had yet to break the barrier of heavy lip-locking. Their romance was secure enough to bypass pure physicality, and neither seemed willing to rush their time together. It just wasn't that big of a deal.

Alex didn't look unnerved at all. Instead she leaned in and kissed Stevie softly. "Maybe someday."

Her response didn't surprise or offend Stevie in the slightest. In fact, Stevie almost felt a sense of relief before kissing her again.

They seemed to understand each other, which was all that mattered.

An hour later, Alex had dozed off after Stevie had made her drink three glasses of water. She was lying on her stomach under the bed's covers, and Stevie was rubbing her back absentmindedly with one hand. She had her computer resting in her lap.

The contents of her plan were organized across the computer's screen. It wasn't coming together well.

Stevie sighed.

Maybe this was all a big mistake….It wasn't supposed to be like this. Someone would eventually find her.

Warren.

_Coward,_ Stevie thought, disgust flashing across her face.

She shut her laptop and switched off the lamp's light, slipping under the covers and rolling to the opposite side of the bed. Not even Alex could make her feel better.

As if she had read her thoughts, Alex mumbled something and moved over to Stevie, snuggling up against her.

The warmth of her body felt nice against the chill of the room, and Stevie took a deep breath, lacing a hand with Alex's and exhaling.

"Okay, you win."

* * *

**Chapter 5: In which Stevie's guilt overtakes her, and Alex tries to make things better.**

A/N: You all are so amazing; thank you both _signed and anonymous reviewers_ for reviewing the last chapter. It sincerely means a lot to me, especially when the Stevie-Alex fandom is so starved. Everyone gets cookies! :)

So, this chapter gave me a lot of trouble; I kept going back and adding and removing parts, which was irritating, so if there are more errors than usual, unfortunately that's why.

Ugh, anyway, I find Alex extremely hard to pen internal dialogue about…And Stevie very easy, which is why I tend to write Stevie more than Alex. Apologies!

Review? What would you like this time? Cake? Éclairs?


	5. How He Left

**CHAPTER 5**

"How He Left"

* * *

When Stevie was fourteen, Warren just…left.

Both in their teenage years, wizards and magic were still just ideas; neither could use the powers they apparently had but couldn't see. The untapped potential brewing in their entities lay untouched, buried, and together they remained unaware of their dormant magical instincts. Barbara Nichols, with the death of her husband and the revocation of her powers, acknowledged her children's magic by choosing to ignore it, sinking further into the depressive melancholy she'd been in for the last ten years.

There was no wizard school, no tutors, no training…They didn't even have wands.

Of course, things happened. Stevie and Warren were both aware of the bizarre magical world they couldn't seem to gain access to from their two-bedroom apartment. At barely fourteen, Stevie's own powers were immature and unnoticed. Confused at even where to _start_, she gave up before she could disappoint herself. Warren, on the other hand, was brimming with an untamable desire to manage his powers, if only just to prove himself.

When he mentioned this, Stevie, who was more interested in learning why she suddenly thought girls were attractive, brushed him off.

"You're just a failure," she told him coldly, thinking of the several times she and Warren had attempted their own enchantments—always crystal clear in their inevitable malfunction.

Warren said nothing back. He stared at the front door.

At seventeen, he was an embarrassment. Most training took place in adolescent years, and he was nearly an adult. He didn't even have his own wand yet. He didn't know how to find one. He was scared.

Warren knew that Stevie hated him for his cowardice. He couldn't take care of them, even when Barbs was down and out. Tied down by her age and inexperience, Stevie had little choice but to rely on her older brother, only to find she couldn't rely on him at all. Warren was just as maturely stunted as Stevie was: he had no job, no skills, and no way out. It was unfair in the end, but Stevie, angry all of the time, didn't care. She learned independence if only because dependency wasn't an option.

One night, Warren was sitting in the living room, staring at a wall. Stevie walked past him, grabbed her jacket, and opened the front door.

"It's almost midnight—where are you going?" Warren demanded, perpetually shocked by his little sister's delinquent behavior.

Stevie barely mumbled, "I'm going out with Tseng."

Warren sat up. "Are you stupid? Tseng's bad news—that girl gets people into trouble, Stevie—"

"Why do you care?" And with that, Stevie slammed the front door and could be heard stepping down the staircase loudly.

Warren leaned back into the couch and looked at the blank wall again.

_Tseng_. Warren ran a hand down his face. His sister was relying on criminals now.

He was pathetic. In a year he'd be eighteen, and he'd accomplished nothing at all. He thought of his mother asleep in the next room over, "on vacation" from her job yet completely dead to the world. He couldn't remember the last time she'd talked to him, outside the several slanders and put-downs that came second-nature in their relationship.

There had to be a way to get out.

But even the idea of magic sounded stupid when paired with the harsh reality of their situation.

Warren sighed. He glanced at the ceiling, where he knew a small compartment lay with their late dad's old things. Barbs never got rid of them, and it had never occurred to Warren that there might be something helpful up there. Sitting upright, he reached for the door's hanging handle, pulling on it tentatively as if freeing a monster.

But the contents of the compartment were underwhelming. It was just boxes.

Warren shrugged and was about to close the door when he paused for a second. He had always thought his dad's old things were clothes and out-of-date records, but what if…

Pulling himself up into the sort-of-attic, dust was the only thing that welcomed him. But the first thing he found was a book lying by itself, covered in a layer of grime that gave away its age. It was in Latin, which Warren had studied for three years in high school. He smiled.

It was inevitable after that. Warren's interest in magic, spurred on by his mortal-world limitations, spread wildly, consuming all of his time and energy. His Latin was remedial, but he could understand some things, and over the course of three weeks he was introduced to a world he had never known before.

And then the day came when he would leave.

At ten p.m. that night, Stevie was outside the apartment's front door pressed against the wall as one of Tseng's girls, Jane Li, kissed her hungrily, their hips crushed together, arms tangled at the other's neck and back.

Jane's hands slid under Stevie's shirt and she mumbled, "Let's go back to my place…"

Stevie brushed her off. "I don't want to."

When Jane asked with annoyance, "Why?", Stevie, who was brand new to the world of lust and attraction, looked equally irritated. She was about to say something that would have no doubt pissed Jane off and by extension, Tseng, but the sound of a particularly nasty explosion coming from the inside of her apartment stopped her.

Jane stumbled backwards. "What the hell was that?"

If it was magic of any sort, Stevie had no answer for her at all. She quickly helped Jane up and took her exit tactlessly. "I need to make sure my brother's okay. I'll meet up with you later." Without waiting for as much as a nod, Stevie unlocked the door and slammed it behind her, forgetting about Jane as she rushed through the kitchen to the bedroom she shared with Warren. She hated her brother, but if he died on her, she was going to kill him.

What she found was most likely the strangest thing she'd ever seen.

Warren was standing with his back toward her—in front of what appeared to be a gigantic, glowing portal. Its contents were a blurry mess of white lights and shadows.

"What are you doing?" Stevie asked slowly, walking up behind Warren and staring at the portal.

"This is it!" he whispered, and Stevie almost hadn't heard him.

"What? What is 'it'?"

Warren wasn't paying attention. He moved toward the portal, tracing a single hand across the glowing light. It seemed to engulf his limb like water. Pulling back, he glanced at Stevie. "I'm leaving. Right now. This…thing…this portal. It's going to show us that other place—"

Stevie snorted, but even she looked a little awed by the door standing in front of her. "Are you stupid? You can't even use magic—"

Warren shook his head. "Dad's books…They helped me—" He stepped closer to the portal and placed a foot inside. "I'm leaving—now. I'm going to find someone to help me use these powers. Just come with me, okay?"

But Stevie was hardly on board. Annoyed with her brother for starting magic without her, she stepped back and glared, thinking she should have just gone over to Jane's after all.

"Good luck with that," Stevie muttered sarcastically, turning around and throwing a hand over her shoulder.

But no one replied. The room had gone eerily silent. When Stevie turned around, Warren was no where in sight. He was gone.

* * *

Sometimes the past blurred the present, becoming too much for Stevie, even with Alex in her life.

There were times when Stevie would miss school for days. Alex would find her asleep in bed, claiming exhaustion, but there was a certain air of melancholy that seeped through the wall of lies.

Stevie's dad had died when she was four and Warren was seven. Their mother's own magic had been stripped once she claimed irresponsibility through substance abuse, leaving Warren and Stevie virtually alone. No one knew what to do with them. Warren was brilliant, but he was confused and afraid of everything. Stevie was clever, but she showed the same irresponsibility her mother had. The entire family had problems, which no one knew how to handle.

When Warren won the wizard competition, Stevie had felt a simultaneous sense of horror and helplessness. She hated her family and found the rules that governed wizards hegemonic and unfair; they ignored the status of families, the morality of wizards, and the competence of people in general, granting unlimited powers to whoever won as long as they "followed" the rules.

It happened so fast—abandoning the Hall of Transfers, locking her brother inside, leaving him in a state of limbo. She felt betrayed. She felt trapped.

Back then she didn't have a choice. She ran away and moved out east to New York with her mom as quickly as possible. Her mother had always been good at disappearing.

Sometimes the pressure of what she had done weighed too much. She crawled into bed and tried to forget about it.

"Let's get food or something," Alex suggested, taking Stevie's hand and pulling her out of bed.

They sat at a local fast food stand. Stevie had wanted soup, but she was staring down into her bowl without the smallest inclination to eat anything.

Finally, she said, "Don't you just feel like everything is over sometimes?"

Alex looked up from her food. "What?"

Stevie sighed. "I mean the competition. Just the fact that only one of us can keep our powers…It's unfair." She sat back. "What, you don't feel that way?"

Alex took a bite of her pasta. "Well, yeah, I feel that way. It sucks…_a lot_, but that just means I'm going to have to win." She swallowed and then sat back. "I can't even imagine what losing feels like."

Stevie sighed. "Losing feels awful. It's like your entire world turns on you."

Alex looked surprised, stopping in mid-bite. "How do you know? You haven't taken the test yet—you could still win."

Right. Stevie stared at Alex, and the urge to tell her what had happened was incredible. She wanted someone to talk to so _badly_, but the fear of rejection boiled deep inside her. Stevie hesitated and decided the consequences of her secrets were too much to share. She shook her head. "Nevermind."

Alex finished her meal and pushed her bowl aside. "Listen, I've seen your magic. The stuff you can do is _amazing_. I couldn't start half the spells you cast. If you can't win, no one can."

The pain of Alex's words showed across Stevie's face. If only Alex knew how wrong she was.

* * *

There was a point in time that Stevie was never found without a book in her face. The margins of her texts were all marked in red, covered by dozens of illegible annotations; arrows were drawn from one paragraph to the next, and by the time Stevie had finished a book, almost no page had gone unscathed by her pen.

The general topics never changed: historical uprisings.

Stevie was starting to look perpetually exhausted. Alex noticed this first, initially concerned, and then secondly frustrated.

One day, without warning, Alex grabbed the book-of-the-week out of Stevie's hands and threw it into a closet somewhere.

Stevie stared at her in shock. And then she choked on nothing and started crying.

Alex had never witnessed Stevie cry before; it was the saddest thing she'd ever seen—when Stevie cried, she cried like there was nothing left in the world for her. Like she had lost everything.

"Stevie…" Alex didn't know what to say. She threw her arms around Stevie's neck and pulled her into the tightest hug she could manage. She wished she could do something, anything, to let Stevie know she was there, that she wasn't leaving. Finally, she murmured into Stevie's shoulder, "I love you."

* * *

Things got better for a while, even if there was a certain amount of distraction in everything Stevie did.

One night, feeling lonely and wanting company, Stevie dialed Alex's number and asked if she could crash at her house. It was nearly two in the morning, and Alex, who liked a large helping of twelve-hour nights without interruptions, groggily answered her cell.

"…what…did someone die…?" she asked but ended up mumbling a weird grunt that arbitrarily meant Stevie could come over.

It took Stevie less than a second to zap herself into Alex's bedroom, but Alex was nearly asleep again. She heard Stevie's boots on the carpet and mumbled, "I'd have killed anyone else, you person…"

Stevie, who rarely took offense to anything, chuckled. She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over Alex, brushing a lose strand of hair from her face. "Two a.m. visits aren't your thing?"

To this Alex actually took the effort to open her eyes, but her intention to look annoyed just appeared sleepy and amused. "Just get in, Stevie," she said, tugging on Stevie's shirt and moving to the left side of her bed.

Kicking off her shoes, Stevie crawled into the space next to Alex, wrapping her arms around her body and resting her chin in the nape of Alex's neck. She felt warm, safe, and completely exhausted.

By then Alex was awake, and upon feeling Stevie's body next to hers, hissed, "You're _freezing_—were you outside?"

"The nighttime air helps me think." Stevie smiled into her neck, tangling her legs with Alex's and taking advantage of the body heat. "You're so warm, I can't even remember being outside."

Alex wondered if Stevie's mom had kicked her out, but she never asked. Instead she readjusted her position until she was facing Stevie.

"Do we do anniversaries?" she asked, her voice a mix of intrigue and revulsion. It was just like Alex to find the sentimentality of anniversaries totally disgusting and yet completely necessary.

"What anniversary were you thinking of?"

Alex shrugged. "Next week we'll have been together for—"

"Seven months," Stevie finished. "I don't know. I guess we missed the six-month mark. Do you want to celebrate?"

"Who said anything about celebrating? I just think we should go to the beach, get dinner, and you can have the present I took the time to buy you. Celebrate? Pssh, that's for my parents."

They talked for a half hour before both of them started dozing off, the warmth of their bodies and the nearing three a.m. hour draining their energy. As usual with Alex, Stevie felt calm and unafraid, and before she had fallen asleep completely, she whispered, "I wish you knew how happy you make me."

* * *

Alex.

_Alex_.

…What?

Hey, Alex!

It was common knowledge that Alex Russo did not wake up before eleven in the morning on any given weekend. Her mom knew it, Dad knew it, and it wouldn't surprise anyone if the sun bent over backwards to ensure Alex had an 11:30 a.m. wake up call. Justin could have his eight o' clock mornings, and Max could sleep in until two, that was all fine. But stir Alex from a concrete slumber, and there _would_ be problems.

So on that particular Saturday morning, when the faint calls of her name started gaining volume, louder and louder, accompanied by knocking on the door, Alex dazedly rose from her dead-tired sleep and looked around.

"…what…?" she mumbled, trying to find her alarm clock but failing.

"Mom's been calling you for twenty minutes, get up!" Justin yelled from the other side of the door, banging on it loudly.

Alex waved him off, her eyelids closing, when she suddenly felt a body next to hers, and she realized it was Stevie. Another fantastic excuse not to get up. Alex pulled the covers back over her shoulder and wrapped her arms around Stevie, who looked even more exhausted than usual.

Her eyes slid shut to the sound of Stevie's relaxed breathing…until Justin proceeded to barge into the room.

Well, fuck.

"It's almost eleven—" Justin's voice reared off and he abruptly stopped in the middle of his personal commentary of the obvious, frozen in his tracks as he stared in shock at the image in front of him.

Alex, like a mirror, jumped up and froze as well.

Stevie had slowly but surely come to terms with the noise in the room, sitting up drowsily and brushing her hair out of her face, only to find Justin and Alex watching her with wide eyes.

The three of them stared awkwardly.

"…Why is Stevie…in your bed…" Justin couldn't even make his question sound appropriately like a question. Instead he just sort of stood there, his brow a million wrinkles too surprised.

Stevie was awake now and unabashedly aware of the situation. She looked at him and shrugged. "I sleep with all my friends," she replied, and it sounded so honest Alex actually nudged her painfully in the ribs.

"Justin, why're you in my room?" Alex snapped, throwing a pillow at her brother and telling him to get out.

Stevie was already climbing out of bed, and if it hadn't been for her being fully clad in her jeans and shirt from the previous day, the situation could've been light years more disastrous.

"Calm down, Mr. President," Stevie started in reference to Justin, pulling on one of her boots. "My mom kicked me out last night and Alex was a good enough friend to let me stay here until the morning."

Even without knowing her background story, Justin had already painted a picture of Stevie as a devious, evil ex-convict who lived with an estranged uncle and his five pit-bulls—and he based this solely off of the way she dressed and the pranks she pulled. Hearing Stevie's excuse now, if anything, verified his already immortalized image of Stevie's life.

"Why? Did you rob a bank or something?" Justin half-joked, but it came out poorly and Alex threw another pillow at him.

"No, a hospital, so I could deprive the sickly children of their wheelchairs," Stevie tried to play along, but it didn't sound much like a joke either, and they ended up staring blankly at each other.

"Okay, haha, you're both hilarious, now get _out_, Justin," Alex said again, feeling ignored and annoyed.

Justin shrugged and headed for the door, yelling over his shoulder. "Breakfast, five minutes, hurry up."

When his presence was fully gone, Alex sighed, sat back, and gave Stevie a very long look. "…So, you were kicked out last night."

Stevie didn't say anything. Her bangs fell over her eyes as she searched around the dark of the room for her book bag and other boot. It wasn't working out that well. Alex watched Stevie for a minute before getting out of bed and helping her, but her own attempts were half-assed and starkly reminiscent of her usual efforts.

The lost boot was under the bed and the book bag was covered by an orphaned blanket. Neither looked at each other as Stevie laced on her left shoe.

Alex had never been tactful or remotely polite in her entire life, and so when she asked bluntly, "What happened?" she was in her own way being supportive.

It was like Stevie hadn't heard her. She threw her bag over her shoulder and stood up, then looked at Alex. "Can we hang out today? I don't know your plans—" Stevie suddenly looked paranoid and tired as she ran her hand through her bangs, staring up at the ceiling as she did.

If Alex hated one thing, it was being ignored, and Stevie was brushing off her questions in an unusually strange way. This wasn't like Stevie. This anxious, shaky person. Alex stood up from where she had just sat down and walked over to the other girl. Her voice was cold and frustrated as she said, "I don't like getting in people's business, because I usually don't care, but you need to tell me what's going on. Right now."

The hesitation on Stevie's face grew with every second as the two stared at each other.

Alex was tired of this. Stevie hadn't been herself in months, and if they were going to seriously commit to this relationship, secrets were the last thing they needed.

And it wasn't like Stevie was a closed book, either. In the seven months they'd been together, Stevie had told things to Alex she'd never uttered before in her life. The level of their intimacy kept them strong, but there was something Stevie was hiding—like she couldn't bear to tell Alex. And it was pissing her off.

Finally Stevie sat down, the strap of her bag sliding down her arm. "What do you want to know?"

"Why you're acting like this—you're not yourself anymore," Alex tried to explain, arms crossed and irritated. "It's not like I need to know your entire life story, but you've told me stuff before—and now it's like you can't tell me anything."

In-between the hallway smiles and late night meetings, there were days when Stevie and Alex gently wove in details of their lives when they were alone. Their fears and grief were mirrored in the other's stories; they validated and comforted each other.

But now, neither looked particularly happy. Stevie sat back and thought for a minute, trying to find something to say before she settled on, "Things are just bad at home right now." She paused, tracing the inside of her mouth with her tongue. "Yeah, I got kicked out last night, but it doesn't matter. It's the same old thing: my mom never really got over Warren leaving. It's just a sore spot between us." Alex's face loosened as Stevie explained her situation, but even she wasn't convinced it was the entire story.

"Look," Stevie continued as if bargaining, "This isn't about trust, you know that. You're the only person in the world I would tell anything to, Alex," she said clearly, clutching her hands together. "But I want to tell you when I'm ready—not because Justin caught us in the same bed and I had to tell him some lame excuse." She inhaled deeply. "Please understand."

Alex didn't understand. She hated long term stories and liked quick results, but if waiting meant something to Stevie, then she was going to have to suck it up and do it.

Alex sighed. "Fine." She sat down next to Stevie. "Let's go eat breakfast…But just warning you, you'll have to listen to my dad rave about the Wizard County Fair for the next hour." She laced her hand with Stevie's. "It's in two weeks, and we're going, by the way."

Stevie breathed a laugh, leaning into Alex and burying her face in her hair. "Thank you."

Alex said nothing, clasping Stevie's hand tighter.

She didn't think she could ever understand.

* * *

**Chapter 6: In which Alex learns everything. **

**A/N: **The Wizard County Fair should be a MAJOR clue to what the next chapter will discuss. Stay with me, guys! You all are so amazing! :)

Thank you for the lovely, lovely reviews, everyone! Your feedback has been incredible!


	6. The Fragility of Lies

**CHAPTER 6**

"The Fragility of Lies"

* * *

If Alex could change the past, she would've never gone to the Wizard County Fair.

She would've never tried to make things better. She would've never tried to help.

She just didn't know. She should have known. If there was anything Alex regretted more, it was that she didn't pay enough attention. Her guilt would define her life for the next two years; she'd never mention it again. She'd bury it away and try to forget what had happened. She'd go on with her life. But it would never go away.

"Here, this'll look great on you," Alex joked, throwing a large costume hat over Stevie's head as they stood at one of the Wizard County Fair's booths, waiting for Harper to finish buying souvenirs.

Stevie breathed a laugh. "Fine, then you should wear this one," she said, placing an equally ridiculous hat over Alex's hair. They grinned at each other.

Harper was nearly done by then, one hand embracing a stuffed unicorn plushie protectively, the other holding a unicorn horn corn-dog. It was stupidly ironic.

"Why aren't mortal county fairs like this?" Harper complained, arbitrarily referring to the WCF by lifting her corn dog into the air. "I just can't go back after this— you've ruined my mortal life, Alex."

"Aw, you're welcome," Alex said smugly. "But I'm tired. You guys ready?" She leaned her head onto Stevie's shoulder to showcase her exhaustion.

The other girls nodded, and in a blink of an eye they were standing in the Russos' living room, their costumes and festivities now completely out of context in the mortal realm. Alex watched Stevie take off her hat with disinterest, glancing down and tossing it to the side. Her face was downcast like she was deep in thought, her brow low and eyes narrowed—what was she thinking about?

Harper was discussing the gourmet nature of the unicorn horn, unaware of its contents until Stevie mentioned it at the expense of a completely devastated and/or horrified Harper. Alex glanced away from Stevie's explanation, the aftermath of her expression jousting through her thought process.

The house was empty except for Max, who was complaining about his own general loneliness. It didn't matter to her. She was busy watching Stevie, whose expression had readopted the same sadness that had become so common of her lately.

If Alex didn't know what was going on, she didn't blame herself, but then again, she never did. Stevie's secrets were her own to bear, but there was a part of Alex that was extremely willing to help carry those secrets. She absentmindedly fiddled with the necklace Stevie had given her a week and a half ago, hanging from her neck with a confidence that said their relationship was solid and okay. Alex wished she felt the same.

Of course, she then did something phenomenally stupid.

She mentioned Warren.

When she looked back, she couldn't remember exactly what she said, but it was enough to highlight Alex's tactlessness so obnoxiously even she wanted to start over again. It wasn't supposed to be mean—it was supposed to cheer her up.

It didn't. Stevie's face fell.

Alex internally winced. What had she been thinking?

"I need to get going," Stevie murmured, and she was gone before Alex even had a chance to apologize.

Damn.

By then Harper had finished her unicorn horn, but her interest wasn't solely centered on the food she was eating. She had been paying close attention to the anatomy of the Stevie-Alex dynamic for a while now. She took off her hat and moved over to Alex, placing a hand on her shoulder. "What's going on?"

It was the question of the century, Alex thought, and it didn't seem to have an answer. "I think it was about her brother," Alex whispered back. She took a deep breath. "I think I know what we should do," she murmured, thinking of the dreaded, tired look on Stevie's face.

She needed to find Warren.

* * *

Stevie's mom had a boyfriend over by the time she got home.

Ralph was a fucking moron whose claim to fame was the amount of women he'd dated in his forty years of life. He was tall, intoxicated, and a total loser.

She ignored them both and walked upstairs, slamming her door as loudly behind her as she could, rattling the walls of the house.

Her room was in disarray. Worse than usual, nearly all the contents of her desk drawers were on the floor, scattered beneath the cartons of food she'd eaten and the laundry that she would not wash. Books were everywhere. Her room had become her life.

She slumped into the desk chair and cupped her head in her hands.

Things weren't going well. And Alex was beginning to suspect something. Scratch that, Alex had suspected something months ago. God, if only she'd understand…If only she could tell her. She needed her so badly right now.

_God, shut up,_ Stevie snarled at herself, disgusted by her utterly human neediness. She wasn't the type to cower in a corner and wait for anything, and she never would be, but things were grossly messed up. She knew it would only be a matter of days before the Wizard Council tracked her down and arrested her.

Stevie took a deep breath. For the last few months she'd been changing the magical signature of her location every other week. It made it impossible to accurately trace where she was and who she was with. It took hours of spell-casting and was completely mentally and magically draining. But it kept her from being found.

It was obvious to all Stevie's magical capabilities bordered along darker uses. She'd never been taught proper magic and had learned everything from the books she found interesting. She taught herself spells that didn't have limitations, that didn't have the stupid side effects that accompanied most enchantments. She was already at level fourteen. Alex was at level eight.

The problem was consistency. Taking on an entire set of wizards with advanced magic was starting to wear her down to nothing but hollowed eyes and shaking hands. She knew the Council was starting to figure out her deviations.

And then there was her "project".

Her wizard revolution.

Stevie rubbed her eyes, exhaled, and turned on her laptop. It hankered loudly at her, begging to be turned off, but Stevie didn't have any time to give her computer a good, long rest. She had to hurry.

"Okay…Where are you…" she mumbled, connecting to the Wizard Ethernet and pounding away at the search engine's contents. She quickly clicked a link to a page and typed in a data-encoded password.

What she saw was not good.

The page was a direct link detailing almost five thousand digital signatures from fellow wizards interested in collectively overthrowing the Wizard Competition. It had been Stevie's idea from the start—a real revolution with the future goal of completely destroying the hegemonic wizard competition that broke so many people down. She finally had five thousand wizards. Just enough.

Wait—not five thousand. 4998.

Stevie's eyes widened as she pounded a fist onto the desk. "_Fuck_," she swore, her heart racing. She glanced at the clock. It was nearly five p.m.

"I need five thousand _today_," she said aloud, swearing again and standing from her desk. "It can't work without that number…" She sat down on her bed, just in time to hear Ralph and her mother start an extremely loud, angry argument. _Ignore everything else…Where can you find more wizards?_

The volume of her mother's fight escalated with each minute. Stevie ran a hand through her hair again.

She eventually decided to ask Gio, who had been on board with her plan since day one. He'd know a few spare wizards with shaky confidence levels. He had to. Thinking fast, Stevie practically leaped from her seat and quickly moved over to her computer, which was rapidly overheating.

"C'mon, just last a few minutes longer," she murmured, sensing her laptop's inevitable death.

But her human-made laptop wasn't listening.

In one quick spark, the contents of the computer screen went black. The noise went soft. The heat simmered down.

Her computer was dead.

Stevie panicked as she tried reviving it, but there was no use. It was incredible that it had gotten that far without blowing up. She swore some more, pacing her room, glancing at the clock over and over like time was speeding up just to piss her off. Everything had to be ready by today or the Council would find her and stop her.

She needed another computer. No, she needed a wizard's computer.

And there was only one other wizard she knew.

"No, I'm not asking her!" Stevie shouted to no one. She rubbed her eyes tiredly again. She wouldn't bring Alex into this.

But…who else was there?

She was so tired. The nights had little to do with sleep anymore, instead filled with hours of recruitment that had always been unreliable from the start. The paranoia of being a fugitive was building on her shoulders everyday, a voice in the back of her head reminding her that she would be found and tried for what she had done. She'd be stuck with her family forever.

She thought of her brother. She thought of Alex.

Stevie's shoulders dropped, and she looked up at the ceiling.

* * *

Warren Nichols was not what Alex had imagined. She had always thought he'd be a street punk like Stevie, but instead he looked groomed, corporate, and incredibly successful. He was Justin.

She immediately disliked him.

Finding Warren had taken almost no effort. How such an advanced wizard as Stevie didn't know where he was seemed bizarre to Alex, but she knew Stevie had never tried to find Warren. She knew about their relationship.

But now perhaps they could get some answers.

All _three_ of them could get some answers, Alex thought, as she glanced back at Justin and Harper, who had both decided to trail along on her quest to track down Warren.

She couldn't decide if Justin's and Harper's interference was helpful or intrusive. She had really wanted to talk to Warren alone; she knew things about Stevie that foreign ears were not supposed to tread upon. But what else could she do?

Alex quickly refocused her attention on Warren, who she decided had to be at least three or four years older than Stevie. "…We're friends with your sister Stevie," Alex explained, the climax of the situation building. She only briefly wondered if what she was doing was right—if Stevie really wanted to see her brother again, if Warren really wanted to be found at all. In the back of her mind, she knew she could be wrong.

Warren's response confirmed her doubts. Warren's face, instantly shifted from its compliant contentedness to shock and anger.

Alex's stomach dropped.

"You know my sister?" The surprise of Warren's voice was quickly covered by panic, and he proceeded to run down the inappropriately sized aisle way of City Hall, and Alex wondered if he really thought Stevie would be back there.

Warren was in a fit as he ran back to them. His face then locked dead-cold with betrayal and he snapped, "You need to get her back here _now_." His expression darkened. "She skipped town after I beat her in the Wizard Competition—"

What?

"—right in the middle of the Transfer of Powers ceremony!"

Alex raised an eyebrow. Well, he was clearly a two-faced, corporate liar with incredibly angry acting skills.

But even then, the look on Warren's face was enough to make Alex question just what Stevie had been keeping from her all these months. Her stomach churned at the possibility of Stevie…lying…to her.

She could vaguely hear Justin talking in the background as her thoughts swirled, lost to the rest of the world as Stevie's smile entered her imagination. Alex shook her head and looked at Stevie's brother. "What're you talking about?"

* * *

Stevie had stolen a lot in her life.

But _this _was not okay. She couldn't do it. She couldn't steal from Alex.

The Russos' wizard lair was empty, the lights off and the doors and closets shut. Even in the darkness of the room, she noticed an old jack n' the box sitting on the main table. She rubbed her neck uncomfortably.

It had taken over an hour to effectively talk herself into this scheme. Breaking into Alex's house was instinctively against what Stevie stood for—it was the lowest she'd ever gone. She didn't treat her friends like this, let alone the girl she was deeply in love with. Is this what it had come down to?

For a fleeting second after her computer crashed, Stevie had nearly given up. She'd get her punishment, but at least she wouldn't have to bear the look of disappointment on Alex's face.

But it was gone with the next passing moment.

"Just get it over with," Stevie mumbled. Like an expert she broke into her thieve-like ways, quickly scanning the room in pursuit of her desired goal.

The Wizard's Computer was tucked away on the back desk.

_Hurry_. She ran to it, switching the laptop on and waiting for the screen to boot. But like most wizards without formal training, she was unfamiliar with its design. With frustration it took her five minutes more just to find internet access. But it wasn't working…

A screen popped up. _We're sorry. The WWWW network is currently down. For troubleshooting, please…_.

No!

Stevie trailed off, slamming the computer case down and cursing loudly.

_Okay, okay calm down_. Stevie glanced around the room. _You're in a wizard's lair. There has to be something here_…

But the walls were covered in materials she had never seen before, and all of the formal wizard manuals were in Latin, which she couldn't read fluently. Even the ingredients stowed away on shelves looked foreign and bizarre.

Stevie's magic was of an advanced, slightly illegal sort, and the materials prepping the lair were clearly for strictly-watched wizards-in-training. They wouldn't help the situation at all. She needed something that could support the trickiness of an advanced spell…

She sat down and tried to remember an enchantment she had seen years ago that constructed direct channels of communication between ten thousand people at one time without breaking down. It wasn't complicated, just the ingredients were rare. She vaguely remembered wood being involved-and lead. Wood, lead…and gold. It was a Resource Spell, which only used naturally occurring resources like wood and clay, and often more expensive, unusual items like gold..

The number of communication channels that would open depended on the quality of the ingredients in the spell. Well, she'd have to make due then.

After rummaging around for a few minutes, Stevie came across a miniature wooden cauldron—good enough. She found a mechanical pencil and dumped the lead out, but even she knew it was a long shot: it wasn't even real lead, but it would have to work for now.

Gold was the only ingredient left.

Stevie thought hard, trying to think of anything that would substitute for gold. As she did, her hand absentmindedly went to the necklace hanging from her neck. She froze. It was the same necklace she had gotten for Alex. They had matching pairs, and it was made of gold.

Forget it.

Stevie wouldn't use it. She tucked the necklace back inside her shirt and looked around the room. On the desk in the center of the chamber was an old spell book, and carefully painted on the edge of each page was what appeared to be gold. Stevie glanced at it cautiously. It was most likely fool's gold, and substituting ingredients in spells was dangerous business that killed a lot of wizards. But she didn't have time to question the validity of a book, and without a second thought, she tore a page out, crumpled it up, and placed it in the wooden cauldron.

She mumbled the spell with the limited Latin she knew, waiting for a few seconds before she dumped the pencil lead into the bowl.

If it didn't work, the plan was done for. If it didn't work, the Council would find her. That would be it.

Suddenly a light fissured from the cauldron, weak and throbbing with an uncertainty that proved Stevie hadn't used the right ingredients. But it didn't matter. Stevie watched as nearly a thousand two-way channels opened, and she said with hesitation, "Show me my followers."

Each slot was instantly filled with a face, each one belonging to an estranged wizard equally bent on taking down the Wizard Competition.

Stevie relaxed slightly. It wasn't enough to get her in contact with everyone, but it was enough to get the word around.

"We have to make this fast," Stevie explained, her voice low and rushed. "So, listen up."

The young men and women on the other side of the spell quieted down from their incessant cheering, waiting anxiously for Stevie to explain the plan.

"We only need a few more wizards—I need all of you to think of someone else who might be interested. We're all here for the same reason: the Wizard Competition is unjust and unfair—it pits wizards against each other without their say; they're forced to fight. The Wizard Council pays _no_ attention to the skill or morality of a wizard as long as they follow the rules. It's all about _their_ rules, when we're the ones who have to fight our _siblings_." Stevie's voice grew with anger as she thought of the Council. How they had made her and Warren fight...

The crowd snarled with equal hatred.

"We're born with these powers. We structure our lives around them, we do everything the Council says, and then our powers are stripped regardless. It's time we ended this."

Yet it was with the climax of her speech that the downfall started, and before she had a chance to continue, she heard a voice shout her name.

"_Stevie_."

She nearly dropped the cauldron in fear, catching herself and spinning around.

Justin Russo was shouting something that Stevie couldn't really hear. But she wasn't paying attention to him.

It was the girl to his right.

Alex.

It was like Stevie's voice disappeared and the world coldly vanished, only the echoes of fate laughing softly, like a snicker. This was her punishment for ever trying to save herself: the look of hurt so stark on Alex's face that Stevie couldn't even call out her name. They stared at each other so heavily that neither could keep the gaze up for long.

And then Alex asked very clearly, her voice thick with confusion and anger, "Did you lose the Wizard Competition to your brother?"

And Stevie, for the life of her, could not look Alex in the eye.

* * *

**Chapter 7: IT GOES AU WITH CHAPTER 7. Thank goodness. **

**A/N: **This is arguably the worst chapter out of the twelve parts that make up this story. I had a lot of trouble writing it. I don't like using outlines of WOWP episodes to frame my chapters—but I had to, if I was going to really explain and justify Stevie's actions. This is only loosely based on "The Good, the Bad, and the Alex", but it still drove me crazy, and this will be the ONLY chapter that does that.

**EDIT**: Even now when I'm trying to fix this chapter, there's still a thousand things wrong with it. It's too insensitive, fast-paced, poorly structured, even emotionally wrong...This was the chapter I really didn't want to write, and that's still obvious now, because I had a terrible time editing it (i.e. I basically didn't). What I need to do is just re-write this chapter completely, but seeing how grating it was writing this draft in the first place, it's going to be a while.


	7. The Process of Mending

**A/N: **Now offically AU. :)

**CHAPTER 7**

"The Process of Mending"

* * *

"I lost."

The words left Stevie's throat with a density that made her seem almost apologetic, but the anger underlying her voice was enough to dead-end any sincerity that she might have felt.

It took all of two minutes for the shock to wear off and for Alex to realize she wasn't surprised at all. In retrospect she should have seen this coming, and Stevie's refusal to discuss Warren was suddenly understandable. Alex couldn't say she was mad; the equality underlying Stevie's plan had more merit than immorality, and she certainly had a reason to act on it, but the sting of being lied to was still fresh and sore. As she stood outside their wizard lair, she couldn't help but wish Stevie had told her about it all. If she had, this mess—this gigantic, illegal mess—would be easier to handle right now.

As Justin stupidly yelled at Stevie, who wasn't listening to him anyway, Alex was trying to construct a way to get Stevie alone. She had to stop her before this got out of hand—or at least before the Council found out. Which they probably already had, if Stevie really was a fugitive fleeing her brother and the inevitable.

Alex felt an immense amount of empathy for Stevie; they were very much in the same boat, both being second to their brothers, the world doubting them in every way. But what had shocked Alex the most was that Stevie had lost. It made no sense—Stevie was one of the most competent wizards she'd ever met.

Justin wasn't getting anywhere with Stevie—and why would he? He was essentially a replica of Warren, limited to his own conceited success and self-glorification. Alex tried to think about it in the revolutionary terms Stevie would identify with: he was the elite class…forcing taxes on…high school delinquents? Or was it the working class? Alex made a face and shrugged. She hated history.

But whatever the case, it wasn't working, and Justin's ineffective warnings were irritating possibly half of the world at that moment. Without really thinking about it, Alex snapped exasperatedly, "Oh, screw it!"

It happened in a series of quick motions Alex wasn't sure she'd remember in the future, but she knew she had to do something. She needed to get to Stevie first.

She muttered something under her breath, a spell she'd learned last year that hadn't worked at the time, but apparently it worked now; she watched as the foggy backdrop of the Wizard World was exchanged for the aesthetic design of the wizard lair, and before she realized it, she was standing next to Stevie.

"Before you say anything," Alex rushed, grabbing Stevie's arm, "I understand, okay?" And before Stevie could reply back, Alex held up her wand.

They vanished from the room.

* * *

Alex, in all truthfulness, had no clue what she was doing. But she then again, did she ever?

They somehow ended up in…Tahiti.

Right. Okay. Not exactly what she meant, but it would work.

Stevie looked around, bewildered. "What the hell? Why did you take us here?"

Alex crossed her arms with irritation. "Because I wanted to run away to fucking Tahiti, Stevie!" She bit her lip, alarmed at the level of her anger which had seemed to surface out of nowhere. It was in that moment that she realized how incredibly furious she was with Stevie; they were supposed to be able to trust each other, and if one of them ended up in the Council's clutches, that wouldn't really be a possibility anymore.

Alex sighed and continued, "Because if you go through with this—this, plan, we won't ever get to go to Tahiti together, okay?" She frowned at her own explanation. _Damn_. She uncrossed her arms and turned around, realizing they were on some beach, it was dusk, and the only thing this picture was missing was two piña coladas. Great. What the hell had she been thinking?

Stevie snapped her name one more time, and Alex spun around.

"—I don't know! I just don't want to lose you—" Alex yelled with frustration, recognizing how corny that sounded and hating herself for it. Her ability to act serious was being greatly inhibited by the fact that she couldn't seem to get a good word out.

The next task was to talk to Stevie and try to make her back down, but Alex had no idea how to accomplish that. Stevie was as stubborn as she was; it was something Alex loved about her, this fantastic perseverance that rivaled even the most motivated person's. But it would be a problem. The last thing Alex wanted was Stevie feeling betrayed, but she couldn't figure out how to get around it without blatantly striking her plan down.

"Stevie," Alex started, she but was cut off when Stevie tossed her own wand aside and pulled Alex into a surprise embrace and kissed her.

Alex wasn't sure how to react, but she didn't have to. Stevie was doing all of the work.

Stevie quickly pulled back, saying, "I was so freaked out you'd hate me—" She talked a mile a minute, the cool and confidant façade she had on earlier almost completely gone. In its place was an exhausted, uncertain piece of the girl Alex knew so well.

Alex had never been good at thinking things through. She liked spontaneity. Which was why, in the middle of Stevie's speech, she leaned in and kissed her right back. Stevie seemed grateful for this, but Alex's motives were less romantic—she just wanted her to stop talking and calm down.

It seemed to work. Stevie's shoulders, tight and elevated, relaxed under Alex's touch, and the two girls stood together for a minute, each trying to figure out what to say next.

Alex was the first to talk. "You seriously thought I'd hate you," Alex reflected, raising an eyebrow. "Do you know me at all?"

Stevie shook her head. "What I did to Warren—"

Warren.

Alex had forgotten about him. Stevie had sort of taken priority in the face of a total wizard uprising.

Alex took a deep breath and looked at Stevie directly. "We need to talk— Stevie, this doesn't make any sense! What the hell happened with your brother? Why don't you trust me anymore?"

The look on Alex's face made Stevie grab hold of her shoulders. "I trust you, you know I trust you—I just didn't know how to tell you—" Stevie paused, frustrated, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "I didn't want to do all this…I never wanted to break into your lair. I just freaked out; I thought it was the end, and I didn't know what else to do."

The anger was slowly seeping from Alex's body as she listened to the exhaustion in Stevie's voice. She watched the darkness under the other girl's eyes, the paleness of her face, the thinness of her jaw. Stevie was wasting away right before her.

"God," Alex whispered, running a hand down the side of Stevie's face, "How long have you been planning this?" She looked like a ghost.

Stevie told her three months, but the idea had been there longer than that. She looked at her exasperatedly. "I swear to you, I haven't lied. Just give me a chance to explain. _Please_."

Well, they were in Tahiti. They weren't going anywhere.

* * *

It was like she didn't have a brother anymore. Stevie told herself that Warren had to come back; he'd fail, just like he always did. But this time…he didn't.

The shock of Warren's departure was surreal. All week Stevie glanced to the front door, waiting for him to walk through it, but there was never anyone. Maybe staring down the front of the house was a stupid idea; wizards didn't need to use doors. She wasn't hoping Warren would come back, she was just expecting it. And when he didn't, well, it kind of stung.

She found the book Warren had used to perform the spell on his bed, opened and used. Stevie knew nothing about magic, yet at the same she was nearly positive wands were a necessary part of spell casting. And Warren didn't have a wand. How did he do it? To her dismay, the entire book was in a completely different language, and it took her a good look through it to realize it was Latin. Fantastic.

There was little point in having a book if you couldn't read it, and Stevie, irritated by her linguistic limitations, tossed the book down on the floor. Warren would have to show her how he'd accomplished it when he came back.

And so life went on.

One day when Jane was over, they were making out on the couch when Jane pointed to the same ceiling compartment Warren had opened weeks earlier. "What's up there?" she asked, nudging Stevie in the shoulder.

Stevie glanced over. "Huh? I don't really know…Probably just crap my mom used to have." She leaned back up to kiss Jane, but Jane had moved away, her legs still straddling Stevie before she rolled off the couch.

"Let's take a look…Oh, come on," Jane muttered, grabbing Stevie's wrist and pulling her onto the carpet.

The compartment was exactly what Stevie expected: dusty and uninteresting. It was barely big enough for two people with all of the boxes crammed into the available space, and when Jane and Stevie finally squeezed into a spot, there wasn't much room to explore.

"Man, your mom's a junk-whore," Jane commented, grabbing a box and opening it.

Stevie glanced over at the foul insult. Why was she dating Jane again? She reminded herself to break up with her as soon as she left the apartment.

Yet Jane had a point; there was more junk in that lame excuse for an attic than Stevie remembered. Boxes upon boxes were covered in cobwebs and debris, like they hadn't been opened in decades. Most nearly crumbled at Stevie's touch, and the others were taped so tightly together they had to use a pocket knife just to pry them open. By eight p.m. they were covered in dust and grime.

Stevie had discovered little she didn't already know about. The boxes were filled with nostalgia from her parents' good times, picture frames and house decor that wouldn't fit into their new lifestyle very well. There were some smaller boxes containing her mom's old hair clips, hand mirrors, and powders, yet when Jane showed interest in them, Stevie quickly put them away.

After another twenty minutes of searching, Stevie was about done. At fourteen, memories meant nothing to her, and she was still waiting for Warren to come back so she could ask him about that book he was using. It was getting late, and it'd been over two weeks. Just what was he doing over there?

"Is Wesley your brother?"

Stevie looked over. "What?"

Jane was messing with a box that had been shoved off into a corner; it was piled beneath two heavy looking crates and looked ridiculously unattainable. "No, that's Warren. Wesley was my dad's name," Stevie replied, crawling over to the box and looking at it with interest. "Hey, help me move these…"

It was a good but pathetic attempt. Neither girl could budge the other boxes, even with their combined effort, and Stevie assumed Warren had had the same problem. After five minutes of trying, they both shrugged and slumped to the ground.

Stevie didn't know her dad at all. She had no memories of him, no connections outside their shared blood, and she didn't really care about suddenly discovering him through lost possessions. But at the same time she was curious. She knew Warren had been up here, and trinkets and old interior decorations definitely wouldn't have caught his interest. What had he seen that she didn't know about?

"Let me borrow your pocket knife," Stevie murmured, taking the blade from Jane. In a few quick motions she dragged the blade across each of the four corners of the box until she was able to access its contents from the side. What they saw was deathly uninteresting.

Books.

Lots of them.

Jane shrugged. "No wonder we couldn't budge the box. It's filled with this crap." She motioned to the texts. "Let's go. We can crash at Tseng's for a few days."

That sounded pretty good. But the books looked intriguing, sort of like the one Warren had found. Actually, they looked like siblings—the books were from the same set.

"…Yeah, just give me one sec," Stevie whispered. She dug her brittle fingers into the binding of a book randomly, pulling it from the rest of the stack. It was leather, old, and falling apart. The title was in Latin.

Stevie flipped through the pages. Everything from the footnotes to the page headings was in Latin; Stevie couldn't understand a single thing. Not only in a literary form, but mathematically —nearly every other page seemed to contain formulas and measurements far beyond her schooling.

About to close the book, she paused as something caught her eye. In the margin of one of the pages were penciled annotations…in English. Stevie raised an eyebrow. It was light but readable, and with further inspection, Stevie soon realized many of pages were annotated in English. The ingredients were even translated.

She pulled out another book from the same collection and flipped through it. English annotations again.

These were the books her dad had trained with. But they looked so advanced that Stevie could only assume they were from college.

"You can read that?" Jane asked, bored, and Stevie snapped that she couldn't, choosing to leave out the part about the annotations. "Great, then let's _go_…Hey, what's this?"

Stevie glanced up. Jane was holding some sort of black stick thing Stevie had never seen before. A little skull adorned the top of it. Stevie shrugged. "I have no clue. Let's go."

She shoved the book back into the box, and she and Jane climbed back into the living room.

With school out for the summer, Stevie spent the rest of the week at Tseng's, but her mind was still on her dad's box of books. It was bothering her, and it showed across her face. She knew the other girls would listen if she needed to talk, but she didn't know what to say or even how to say it without sounding crazy. It was magic, that much she was sure about, but weren't spells supposed to be stupid couplets with chicken's beaks and rotten eggs? And then there was that stick with the skull…

A few days later she was sitting on a window ledge looking outside, when suddenly it hit her like a train in the face.

It wasn't a stick.

It was a _wand_. That was what real wands looked like!

Barely able to contain her excitement, Stevie jumped to the ground, rushing passed Jane and the others.

"It's a wand! Not a stick!" Stevie shouted, grabbing her things and slamming the front door behind her without saying goodbye.

Lying on the couch, Jane rolled her eyes and snorted. "Whatever you say, Harry Potter."

It took Stevie a little over a half hour to get home by foot, but she didn't care. She suddenly had a way _out_, and she wasn't going to lose it. She quickly unlocked the front door and threw her bag to the side, racing up to the ceiling compartment as fast as possible.

And so what started out as general curiosity quickly became another stage in Stevie's life.

It took her two months to cast her first spell, and it was a complete disaster. It was magic meant to cause a rain storm, but it was June gloom and was already pouring outside. Stevie soon learned spells themselves could be confused after clouds formed below her ceiling and it started raining in her house. She spent the next week trying to fix it.

Her renaissance came six months into practicing, when she suddenly learned a spell on how to translate languages; it took seventeen tries and three weeks to get it down, but afterwards, learning spells took no time at all.

And the first thing she did was to go find Warren.

The book Warren had used was tucked under his bed, but Stevie had never been able to use it—there were no translated notes from Wesley for guidance. It was the last in the series and the most complicated, but it didn't matter. By then, Stevie was accustomed to dealing with a spell for at least a month before she was able to cast it; she understood the mixture of disappointment and frustration and knew how to deal with it.

But she was never able to find the spell Warren had used. Even after translating the book, it wasn't there. It seemed impossible that Warren could have created a brand new spell—out of nothing. How did he do it?

There was one spell in particular that had caught Stevie's attention early on, and she marked its mention and went back to it a day later.

A transportation spell.

Apparently it wasn't about spell casting at all, it was about mental concentration, total focus on the destination and one's surroundings. The first time Stevie tried it, she ended up on Warren's side of the room. She tried it again and ended up in the same place. Again. And again. She couldn't understand it, what was she doing wrong? It said to concentrate on where she wanted to go, and that was wherever Warren was.

She paused. Wait, maybe Warren wasn't a destination. Maybe that's why she kept ending up on his side of the room, because she didn't know where he was, only where he had been.

She knew he was in the Wizard World. She needed to get there.

Regaining her focus, Stevie closed her eyes and thought of an arbitrary sign of the Wizard World—a pointy hat. It was stereotypical and expected, but Stevie couldn't really think of what a magical world looked like, and this was the closest thing she could think of.

Suddenly the surroundings shifted in one giant, unexpected motion. It was bizarre enough for Stevie to feel sick to her stomach, but the feeling only lasted for a minute. Immediately the environment stabilized again, and Stevie looked around at where she was.

It was a shop. Of hats. The walls were oak and people were busily rushing about, parents and their kids, men and women…and humanoid spiders?

Stevie nearly screamed as she saw an eight-armed man with eight eyes walk passed her; he was holding a hat that he liked and was grinning, but Stevie was convinced he was going to devour her. What the hell was this place? Wasn't a 'wizard world' for _wizards_? What if she had landed in the wrong world? Without thinking, Stevie rushed passed the man and ran outside.

She halted in her steps.

What she saw was enough to take her breath away.

Oddly shaped buildings of all sorts, medieval and modern alike, sat next to each other in a weird juxtaposition she couldn't really explain, surrounded by streets of markets and bargainers and tellers, each different in their merchandise and completely strange. Dragons were on leashes, and kids were flying; there were carpets floating in the air for purchase next to a set of broom sticks, and everyone—_everyone—_seemed to think it was perfectly normal.

This was it. The Wizard World.

Stevie never looked back, which was a problem from day one.

She had forgotten about Warren.

* * *

The weight of Stevie's past was a heavy tale to digest as the two girls sat on the sands of Tahiti, the sun now set.

Stevie wasn't sure how to explain it, so she ended up saying, "The Wizard World has its good parts, but it also has bad ones."

In the same way mortals characterized good and bad, so did wizards, and if you knew where to look, at least half of the Wizard World was home to some form of underground magic user bent on facilitating forbidden magic. With no formal training, Stevie explained that underground spells were harder to perform but easier for wizards taking unconventional paths toward mastering their powers.

"Dark spells were just so much more powerful…Those irritating side affects—like standing on one foot to stop time, what's the point of that? They're seeded out when you start learning high-level spells," Stevie explained. "A lot of the magic I use is banned. But it was the best way for me to learn at the time."

Alex seemed both surprised and impressed. "Wow." She pursed her lips. "I like that."

Stevie smiled provocatively. "Want me to teach you?"

Alex smirked, then leaned back slightly, ignoring her question. "And Warren…?"

Warren. Right. Stevie looked down. Warren's return marked a part of her past she didn't like talking about. It took a drawn-out, exhausting night of debauchery just for Stevie to accept her brother's eventual reappearance.

"It took him a long time to come home." She glanced at Alex "When he finally came back, I freaked out. I went through a really stupid night before I realized how much I missed him."

* * *

Three years later, Warren would, as Stevie had hoped long ago, walk through the front door.

No longer a kid, Stevie now understood herself better than she had all those years ago. She could control her magic with an advanced skill most wizards never reached. She didn't need Warren. She didn't need Tseng's group anymore. She didn't need anyone.

When there was a knock at the front door, she never expected anything. And when she opened it, she saw a man she didn't recognize.

His hair was black and short, and he was wearing a suit and tie.

"Hi, Stevie," Warren greeted warmly.

Stevie stared back with wide eyes.

Warren only smiled softly.

There was a long, uncertain pause, until Warren finally asked, "Can I come in?"

Stevie, unsure whether she was dreaming or not, stupidly stepped aside as Warren—her _brother—_walked through the door, the same door she had stared at so many times years ago, waiting for this moment.

When they sat on the couch together, it was almost unreal.

Warren was silent for a very long time; it was like he had forgotten how to formulate even the simplest sentence. Stevie could only watch him out of the corner of her eye, bewildered into the same silence that had forsakened Warren's ability to speak.

Unable to hold his feelings in any longer, Warren said quickly, "I want you to know I never meant to leave you." Stevie could hear Warren's voice breaking slightly. "I couldn't figure out how to get back after I left, and by the time I did, it had been three months. I didn't want to come home a failure. I wanted to be able to take care of us, so we could leave Mom. Stevie, I'm so sorry—"

Warren was talking, that much Stevie was sure of, but she had slipped into a state of mind that barred any outside interference. The feeling was not unlike a heavy rock hitting your stomach. Stevie's breath was caught, stirring in her lungs with no direction, her heart slowing with every passing minute. It was hard to say what ran through her mind first—that Warren was actually there, that he was alive, that he had grown up…The thoughts surged through each memory she ever had of Warren, trying to align her old brother's face with this new one.

Sitting by each other like the old days, silence filled the whole of their conversation, pained glances and unexpressed emotions hitting the floor without a second thought. Neither could speak coherently, Stevie unsure of what to say or how to act, Warren trying to grant his sister the peace she needed right then.

It had been _three _years. Had Warren even ever existed? She didn't know what to do. Magic couldn't solve this.

Stevie glanced to the front door, a sense of déjà vu washing over her, and stood up.

"I need to think," she said harshly, thudding from the couch and grabbing her coat.

Warren didn't try to call after her as she slammed the door behind her, the night's brisk air hitting her skin as she ran down the staircase towards the parking lot. It had been years since she felt this _lost_, this confused. It was like she didn't know herself anymore. Warren's disappearance should have felt like a betrayal—he _left _her. He never came back. But it didn't feel that way. Why? Why did Stevie feel like Warren never left her behind, he just went to sleep for three years? Somehow there was a skip in time, and it was like Warren never left.

Maybe it felt that way because they couldn't help each other three years ago. They couldn't rely on each other. It was like the other was just _there_, useless and unneeded, extra baggage no one wanted to carry.

Stevie bit her lip as she walked.

The shock of seeing Warren was overwhelming, and she didn't know how to deal with the onslaught of traitorous emotions hurtling at her. She had forgotten what it was like to have a brother, the only real family she'd ever had. But she didn't need a brother anymore.

Stevie had left the apartment to think, but the last thing she wanted to discuss was Warren, and somewhere between all the internal bantering she ended up standing in front of Tseng's hang out.

It was bizarre. She didn't know how she had ended up there; she hadn't been to Tseng's in over eight months, and even before then she was showing up less and less. The house where the usual group hung out looked deserted and decrepit, but Stevie could still see a faint light coming from the inside of one of the windows. Maybe someone really was still there.

Stevie hopped the gate and walked toward the main entrance, slipping inside. The contents of the hangout were still in fairly good condition, and by the new look of the beds and couches, people were still living there.

Tseng's group had become a second home in some respects. There was always food and company, even if the quality was low, and it felt comforting being a part of something other than the broken Nichols family.

Even now, everything was still the same.

"Well, look who it is," a voice announced, and Stevie languidly turned around, stuffing her hands into her pockets.

"Hey, Tseng," Stevie greeted back, unsurprised. Catrina "Catt" Tseng was a twenty-three-year-old street punk with short black hair and fourteen different body piercings, ten of which were on her ears and face. Employed through black market occupations and under-the-table job offers, Tseng was a mortal god to wandering girls alike, as she took them all under her wing without as much as a second glance. The first time Stevie had met her was randomly at thirteen years old, when she had stolen a shirt from a store and was looking for a place to hide. Needless to say, Tseng rescued her.

Tseng crossed her arms. "I didn't think you'd be back anytime soon." She walked across the room and entered her own chambers, motioning for Stevie to follow her.

"I'm not back," Stevie informed her, walking through the doorway into Tseng's room. "I'm just visiting."

Tseng uncapped a bottle of strong wine, took a swig, and tossed it to Stevie. "Then what do we graciously owe this honor?" she replied, twirling out her arms and bowing her head sardonically.

Stevie shrugged. She didn't know why she was at their old hangout; she just showed up, and articulating her motives to Tseng made no sense at all. She was lost. Tseng found people. Maybe that was why she was there.

"I'm confused right now," Stevie murmured, and then she took a long, much needed drink from the bottle. "And you never are."

Tseng laughed at that for a long time. It was like her laugh reached the other side of the world before she said, "Good. You remember." She took the bottle back when Stevie finished. "The world's black and white, Nichols. You're the one who's making it gray."

Spoken like a true criminal. Stevie took a long breath, feeling the affects of the alcohol on her empty stomach. "I tried to make things simple, but they never are. I don't even know how to act right now," she tried to explain, drinking another lengthy gulp of wine after Tseng had given it back. She thought of Warren and herself arguing as children years ago; they never could get along. She shook her head. "Whatever," she mumbled to herself, then sighed. "So, who's still around here anyway?"

Tseng leaned back against the wall. "Jane's gone, in case you wanted to know." She lit a cigarette and took a long drag from it. "Left a few months back. I'm not sure where she is now." Stevie felt surprised at hearing this, but she covered her expression by glancing to the ground.

"I didn't think she'd leave."

Tseng waved it off. "They come and go." She exhaled a large puff of smoke. "Got a bunch of new girls just two months ago. They're adapting. Liz is still around; so are Emily and Miranda. We're thinking about heading out east soon."

Stevie looked up from the ground. "What, all of you?"

Tseng nodded. "A change of scenery might be good." Silence. "There's room for you, too, if you're interested.

Even a year later Tseng still managed to offer her another route to take. That woman really was a god. Stevie smiled sadly. "I'll think about it."

They sat in silence again, Stevie stewing in her memories as she thought of all the change that was taking place so fast. Jane had been the first girl she'd ever kissed; she never loved her, she wasn't even sure if she liked her back then, but there was a special space Stevie kept reserved for her. It was sad in a way, hearing that she'd disappeared, probably lying in a ditch somewhere.

It was strange knowing that the gang was moving altogether—sort of like traveling nomads. Even as Stevie slowly disconnected from Tseng and the others, she had always looked to them as a family she could run to in times of need. Where would she go now that they were leaving forever?

Stevie took another deep breath, tasting the smoke from Tseng's cigarette as she did. "I don't know if I want you guys to leave." She finished off the bottle, the shadows of her sadness showing across her face.

Tseng smirked and pushed from the wall she was leaning against. The look on her face never changed as she stubbed out her cigarette. "Come here."

For some reason Stevie did as she was told, moving over to Tseng with a robotic like obedience reminiscent of her earlier involvement with the gang. Tseng stared at her for a minute, almost like she was figuring out an equation, before she leaned in and pressed her mouth to Stevie's, her tongue brushing against her teeth.

In her entire time with Tseng's group, Stevie had never been physically involved with Tseng; there was something off limits about the boss, and Stevie never tried to breach that unspoken contract. Yet sleeping with the commander of the group sounded less terrifying now that she was no longer a member. It would get her mind off of Warren, at least for a while.

Stevie opened her mouth and kissed her back, feeling Tseng's hands pulling at her jeans as they fell back onto her mattress.

An hour later Stevie's naked body lay next to Tseng's, who had fallen asleep, but Stevie was too preoccupied to follow her lead.

Their affair hadn't helped much; instant gratification was never enough to purge Stevie's mind, and eventually Warren resurfaced, the lines of his face pronounced in a loud, clear way. She stared at the ceiling. What was Warren doing right now? Was he waiting for her? Was he watching the front door, the same way she had all those years ago?

Should she even go back? Maybe she could stay with Tseng for a while. Move out east. She could run away.

Just like Warren had.

"Well, well, well, I don't believe it," a voice sneered.

Stevie abruptly sat up, clasping the bed's sheet to her chest and glancing toward the room's entrance. A girl was leaning against the door's frame, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she smirked cruelly at the scene before her. Stevie suddenly felt like a kid caught stealing cookies, and she quickly tried to regain her ground.

"What the hell do you want, Liz?"

Liz Blightly was eighteen and had been in the group nearly as long as Tseng had been its leader; she was the only blonde out of all the girls, but her hair now sported a dark red dye that made her look much older.

"I remember only just a year ago you were unzipping _my_ pants. My how things have changed," Liz slithered, walking into the room slowly, her stare locked with Stevie's.

By then Stevie was already grabbing her things, trying to find her bra but eventually giving up and tearing on her shirt as fast as possible. This wasn't a good sign. Liz was one of the most violent girls in the group, and Stevie was buzzed enough to know she couldn't hold her own right now. Poking the beast was the last thing Stevie wanted to do.

"I'm leaving, chill out," Stevie replied, pulling on her jeans and buttoning them. The situation was growing dangerous; she should've been gone two minutes ago, and Liz was drawing nearer. Seeing how close Liz was out of the corner of her eye, Stevie immediately tried to stand, but Liz's hand shot out like a snake in mid-attack, her fingers snagging onto a section of Stevie's hair aggressively.

Liz smiled. "What? Leaving so soon?" Stevie tried to stand again, but Liz pushed her back down. She warned, "You had your chance to stay here, Stevie." She yanked on her hair. "No one wants you. You're dirt. You have no family, especially here." With those final words, Liz pulled Stevie upwards from her knees and onto her feet, throwing her violently into a wall.

Tseng stirred.

"Sorry, Tseng," Liz called, "Just getting rid of some trash."

By the time Liz had turned back around Stevie was already on her feet again, grabbing her jacket and sprinting out of the room as quickly as her legs would let her. Some of the other girls were home now, none of which Stevie recognized, but they all looked at her with the same total mortification on their faces.

Stevie didn't realize why until she was well out of the house: blood from a nasty gash on her forehead was leaking down all over face.

But she wasn't mad. In fact, she couldn't think of a time when she had been happier.

Liz, in a weird, angry way, had knocked some sense into her. Warren was _back_; he was back, and he wasn't leaving. He was her family—she had a brother again.

She ran the entire way home without stopping. When she finally got to the apartment, she unlocked the front door to find Warren sitting in the same place he'd been in only two hours ago.

The past didn't matter anymore.

Without saying a word, she walked over to him calmly and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into the tightest hug she'd ever given her brother.

"Welcome home, Warren."

* * *

**Chapter 8: The Wizard Competition and Stevie's ultimate decision. **

**A/N: **…Is anyone still there? Did I bore you to death? Do you hate me now for adding in Stevie's past?

I loved writing about Stevie's involvement with Tseng's gang. I think it's my favorite scene in this story, and I felt like it wasn't overly convoluted and uninteresting. I think fans of Stevie in particular might like fleshing her character out a little.

It's always hard to write emotion from characters that have never really been in dangerous situations. You have to think of how'd they act, what would be OOC, and it's always such a pain. I don't know how Stevie would act, so liberties, liberties on that. As for Alex, she's so deadpanned in bad situations that her swearing sounds odd, but she's under a lot of stress, and she's a teenager. Disney just doesn't get it.

UM, can I just say you guys are AMAZING? Seriously, I can't even thank you all for your amazing reviews and kind words. Seriously, best audience ever. I also want to thank all of the readers who don't comment as well-I know you guys are out there, and you mean a lot to me as well! :) Thanks for sticking with it this far, everyone!


	8. Problems With Running

** CHAPTER 8**

"Problems With Running"

* * *

It was hard to explain what exactly transformed after Warren's return.

Stevie was as steeled and raw as the streets she navigated everyday, but Warren's return revitalized her interest in human nature again. She couldn't feel angry at her brother's abandonment. Both adults now, the growing hatred they had initially felt for each other as kids vanished like it had never existed. For the first time, the Nichols siblings were able to digest the other's presence without disappointment and irritation.

For two months, Warren was back.

And it was weird. They both had grown up, but the street kid Warren used to be was still in there, and perhaps it was what made the new transition so much easier for Stevie. Instead of seeing someone she didn't recognize at all, she saw a person who had transformed, whose own identity had been seasoned with different spices. It wasn't what she was used to, but then again, success in the Nichols family was a rare phenomenon. In a way, she almost admired Warren. Almost.

Warren even offered to help her with magic, but Stevie declined, and they spent the rest of their time together discussing their own adventures with their powers, the successes and the failures, everything.

For the first month, all they could do was talk. They finally had something in common, they finally understood themselves.

They had become friends.

Warren quickly became what Tseng's gang had been to Stevie months before: family. He never tried to exert his authority or instill his own rules, but instead he carefully wove a spot for himself in Stevie's life, the brother he couldn't be all those years ago.

Maybe it was even their loneliness that brought them together.

One day, they sat in the park eating lunch. Stevie took a sip of her drink and said, "This is weird. But in a good way."

Warren looked over. "Weird?"

"I don't think we've ever eaten lunch together." She grinned and playfully punched him in the shoulder. "Now look at us." Warren smiled back.

But what took up the last month, however, was Warren's custody battle with Barbara Nichols. Stevie had felt a sense of surprise, uncertainty, and gratefulness when Warren asked her to come live with him in England where he had trained. He had his own flat, a job at the Wizard World City Hall—he was the success he had always wanted to be.

"What do you think?" he asked, taking a bite of the dinner he and Stevie had made together on his twenty-first birthday. Stevie had gotten him a flask and told him to make good use of it; Warren, who looked slightly horrified by his little sister's present, told her he'd try but wouldn't promise anything.

Stevie sat back, thinking about Warren's proposal. She knew she wanted to be as far from Barbs as possible, and with Tseng's group now gone, there was little tying her down to the crappy city she had grown up in. All she knew about England was the Queen and tea, but what did that matter?

Stevie grinned. "Well, yeah, I want to go," she said, an unexplainable feeling of excitement filling her chest. "I can't believe you've been in England all this time. That's so…worldly."

Warren laughed. "You'd like it there. London's amazing. So much better than LA." He took another bite of his food.

"When can we leave?"

It was a question they all wanted to know, but Barbs would not have it.

Warren was dead to her and Stevie was close to it, but she still represented the daughter who had stayed behind in their shack of a home.

It was what stressed the last part of Warren's stay—Stevie was seventeen; Barbs still had legal custody over her.

Stevie looked exasperated and offended by the laws governing her age; she would be eighteen in two months, didn't that mean anything? Apparently it didn't, and Warren continued to yell and threaten in a way a man in a suit only could.

It was messy. It was loud. The living room became a junkyard of broken dishes and lamps in Barbs' attempts to ward off Warren's presence through physical violence. It took a long time, and eventually Barbs announced she was moving with her boyfriend out east. She hated her traitorous children.

Stevie didn't particularly care and wished her good riddance on her next romantic adventure; she was going with her brother, whether her mom liked it or not.

But she never would leave with Warren.

Stevie could remember like yesterday trying to decide if she wanted to bring the contents of her room with her to England, when out of no where she looked up and a man was standing in front of her.

Instincts kicking in, Stevie grabbed her wand and jumped back, threatening violence if he didn't leave.

The man looked surprised. "You don't know who I am?"

Stevie only then remembered that she now had a brother to rely on again, and she quickly called for Warren. "Warren, get in here!"

"Calm down, young lady—" the older man demanded.

By that time Warren was already in the room, his own wand out, but he stopped in mid motion, his face one of pleasant surprise. "Mr. Levitt? What are you doing here?"

Stevie watched as this apparent Mr. Levitt smiled. "It's time."

Stevie had no idea what that meant, but from the look on Warren's face, it wasn't good. Her surroundings blurred into watery streaks of pale blues and whites, and suddenly the three of them were moved outside into the middle of the street just beyond their apartment complex. Stevie looked around, startled. Something wasn't right. The area looked like its color had been greatly diminished, almost faded in a way, and the street was completely deserted. Even the businesses lining it were blackened and closed.

"Please don't look so alarmed, my dear, this isn't your real street. It's just a replica of an arena you know best," Mr. Levitt explained calmly.

"Arena?" Stevie looked at Warren. "What's going on?"

Warren looked upset. "It's the Wizard Competition." He turned to Mr. Levitt. "Please, I just got back; my sister and I aren't ready for this at all, I haven't even seen her in years—" Warren looked anxious and angry all at once. His hands illustrated the stress of his words as he tried to reason with the man, but it was useless.

Mr. Levitt seemed to shrug, but he did so in such a cocky way that Stevie felt like punching him in the face. "Each of your power levels indicate you both have advanced magical abilities and knowledge, Warren. I don't make the rules, I just follow them, and the Council says it's time for you two."

Stevie's breath caught. She had heard about this competition, but she didn't know she'd ever have to actually compete in it. Hushed whispers and low conversations mentioned the frustrations behind the 'Wizard Competition', where wizards lost their powers to other wizards. Books were more helpful: even if you were born a wizard, it didn't mean you'd stay one. It had never really bothered Stevie, because Warren ran away, making her the only wizard in her family. She thought she'd never see him again.

"You will begin when I leave the area—" Levitt was saying, but Stevie was trying to get Warren's attention.

"Warren, you just got back—" Stevie tried to explain over Levitt's voice, which had suddenly become so all-encompassing she almost couldn't concentrate.

"The wizard with the best display of skill, control, accuracy, and point accumulation will be pronounced the winner and—"

It seemed like Warren was a thousand miles away. Stevie felt immense frustration as she attempted to make her voice heard, but it seemed like they were being separated with every passing second.

"—will be made into a Full Wizard." Levitt paused, and then very simply said, "Begin." His body vanished.

Full Wizard? She wasn't a full wizard already? Stevie looked at Warren. "Tell him this isn't the right time or something!" The shakiness of her voice betrayed the coolness of her face.

"I can't. We're going to have to fight, Stevie…" Warren looked defeated, succumbing to the beast that was the Wizard Council.

Stevie stared in shock "You can't be serious," she started, throwing out her arms. "You just returned—" She stopped dead in her tracks as a realization hit her square in the chest, knocking what little breath she had left from her lungs. "You're kidding. You're kidding." She looked up to the sky and let out a bewildered scoff. "So, this is why you came back. To take my powers."

Maybe she didn't entirely believe that, but the pain of the situation was so strong she didn't really have time to think things out. Warren wasn't a person she hated anymore—he was her friend now; he was someone she could run to. She could rely on him. And it made the sense of betrayal even more suffocating.

But what really stung the most was that she had learned to trust him. Now it didn't matter anymore.

Warren's eyes widened. "That's not true at all—I didn't even know—"

Stevie cut him off. "Save it. And fuck you." She lifted her wand. "I may not be trained, but I know what I'm doing."

And she did.

She whispered a spell under her breath, and the ground started shaking. Almost instantly what looked like chains burst forth from the concrete; they seemed to possess a demonic quality to their essence, shrieking in a way that suggested they were slightly…alive. In one swift motion they had snaked around Warren's ankles and wrists, pulling him to his knees.

"You can't have my magic," Stevie snarled, and with that she said another spell, and Warren was lifted into the air, the chains propelling him upward like a fish on a hook. She glared in fury. "You _left_ me, Warren, all alone with our crazy mother for _three_ years. And I forgave you." She moved her wand, and Warren was brought closer to her.

"Stevie—" he tried to start, but Stevie cut him off.

"What? You want to apologize again?" She walked around him. "That's not going to work this time." She held out her hand—a sphere of fire erupted from her palm in such a wrath of sparks and flares that it almost seared Warren's face.

But Warren was ready. Wand still in hand, he snapped under his breath, "release", and the chains hissed away from his body like he had burned them.

He jumped back to the ground. He yelled, "I meant what I said! I never wanted to leave you alone—"

Stevie's hand twisted downwards, and the ball of fire dropped to the ground, shooting out in both directions, tracing a ring of vibrant flames around them.

"You know," Stevie said calmly, stepping forward, the flames dancing around their owner obediently. "I was so caught up in running away from you and Mom that I never realized—you just knew how to do it better, didn't you? Fleeing to the Wizard World. Genius." She paused, then snarled coldly, "You really are a coward." With her last words the flames encircling them shot upwards.

Stevie watched her brother try to explain, but all she saw was a spineless boy who liked to run and couldn't seem to stop. She thought of his first day back home. She thought of the last two months. She thought of the man she called her brother once again.

She ground her teeth into an angry sneer. Tseng had left three weeks ago. Now she really had nowhere else to go.

Warren, shocked into reality, raised his own wand in retaliation and murmured, "I never wanted this, Stevie."

And it began.

* * *

Stevie and Alex stared at nothing for a long time. They sat together in silence, until Stevie murmured, "And I lost. " She glanced up at the sky. "The second we got to the Hall of Transfers, I went back home and got the hell out of there with Barbs and her boyfriend. That's how I ended up in New York."

She paused, then murmured, "…I left Warren trapped there." The night's darkness covered her face, but even then, it couldn't hide the sadness that flashed through her eyes.

The Competition had threatened to take away the only thing that made life livable—her magic. Alex appreciated magic because it made things easier; Stevie appreciated magic because she depended on it. Her magic was the only resource she could access; it was the only thing she could gain on her own.

Alex understood this. She understood the tragedy behind the Competition, the gut-wrenching fear of losing everything, the sticky reluctance to fight. Stevie had been scared—and when she was forced to compete, she steeled herself and banished the kindness Warren had shown her. It was a survival strategy.

Yet there was something different in Stevie's tone, something that said her fears were not solely the loss of her magic, but something else entirely.

She was afraid of being left behind.

Alex reached out and took Stevie's hand in her own, drawing her thumb across it. They stared together at the darkness of the ocean and the searing moonlight, the echo of the waves a soft melody against their stark silence. It was only after Stevie spoke that Alex could hear her voice breaking.

"I feel so bad," Stevie said, grinding her teeth together and blinking back impending tears. "I know it wasn't his fault…What I did was so low…" She closed her eyes and dropped her face into her folded forearm, her voice growing softer as she started to sob.

It became very clear then that Stevie had never been upset about the revolution. She was broken over Warren.

Feeling just as helpless and unsure, Alex did the only thing she could do. She put her hands to Stevie's shoulders and pulled her into an embrace, letting Stevie cry into her neck for as long as she needed.

"He didn't deserve that," Stevie choked out with such raw, unmitigated sorrow that it was almost startling. "I left him the same way he left me, but at least he came back— I'm the one who's a coward—"

Everything seemed so out of control.

The guilt of Warren was too much for Stevie to bear alone; she locked away what she had done, her focus on retaining her powers, but the guilt had always been there.

Alex felt overwhelmed and concerned for the girl she loved, holding her there and waiting for the world to throw up its hands in defeat. She hadn't meant to say anything, but as she listened to Stevie sob and felt the shaking of her shoulders, she murmured, "Do you want to go through with this revolution?"

They sat together in silence for a very long time, and only Alex noticed when Stevie's lips whispered the word, "No."

It was a heavy confession that Alex had not been expecting to ever hear, but the girl before her was wasting away into nothing by the guilt and anxiety that so thickly governed her life. Stevie needed closure; she needed her brother's forgiveness.

Another wave of silence washed over them.

Alex looked down at Stevie's form and whispered, "Then I have an idea."

* * *

It happened in a series of stages, but when Stevie looked back, it all unfolded so much faster than what she had expected.

The Hall of Transfers was empty when they got there. Stevie remembered feeling shivers rush down her spine; she hated that place. It was a cacophony of bittersweet victories and failures. She crossed her arms, feeling uncomfortable, and waited.

She hadn't seen her brother in almost nine months, and the last time they'd been together it was under a veil of such stark anger they had never even said goodbye. When Warren first left her, Stevie felt nothing toward seeing him again. Now, the anticipation was so high it was making her stomach hurt.

They waited.

When Warren walked inside the chamber, Stevie didn't know what to say. They stared at each other with a mixture of relief and hurt.

Warren only sighed tiredly, shaking his head. "We both have problems with running, don't we? Is it in our nature to run away from things?"

Stevie swallowed again, the shame of her actions bearing down on her skin and bones. She seemed lost between bolting toward the exit and dropping to her knees in defeat, the runaway in her still there, the little girl that liked to wear masks still very much alive. It was only when she whispered, "I really messed up, Warren," that her shell seemed to break a little, showing instead a glimpse of the girl who felt so much guilt and helplessness. She closed her eyes. "I'm sorry."

Warren put his hand on Stevie's shoulder, and before she knew it, he had pulled her into a hug. Stevie looked awkward and uncomfortable, her body stiff against the unexpected kindness of her brother, but she didn't pull back, either. Warren mumbled, "I know why you ran; I understand."

Stevie breathed into her brother's shoulder. Instead of the raging revolution she had expected, she was in her brother's embrace, speechless and confused. It was all so anti-climatic that she suddenly felt an immense sense of exhaustion. She hadn't slept in days; she hadn't slept well in months. And now it was over. Her shoulders lost their tension, and as hard as she fought it, she slumped into her brother's chest, letting him take her weight.

Warren seemed to expect this, tightening his hold around his sister. But mixed concern washed over Alex, who quickly put her arms around Stevie's waist, trying to steady her.

Stevie mumbled, "I'm just tired."

And then she passed out.

Surprise passed over both Warren's and Alex's faces as they watched Stevie abruptly slip into unconsciousness, and eventually Alex helped Warren settle Stevie's body to the ground. Warren looked at his sister sadly. "I've never seen her eyes so sunken," he murmured. "Where has she been all of this time?"

Alex wasn't sure if she was allowed to say, but at this point in time she imagined things couldn't get much worse. "Your mom moved to New York; she's been living on Manhattan Island." And then Alex took a quick breath and crossed her arms. "I'm her girlfriend." It was weird saying it publicly.

Warren didn't seem surprised by this at all. Apparently he knew which way his sister swung. He sighed. "I never wanted this. It wasn't my idea to have the Wizard Competition. It just happened, and then it was over." He leaned back. "I'm a terrible brother."

Alex sighed. If only Warren knew Stevie felt the exact opposite. "No, you're not," she replied, glancing down to Stevie's face. "Stevie loves you. She didn't want this to happen, either—That's why she came back." Alex paused, trying to think of how Stevie felt. "…Before, I think she felt lost."

They sat in silence.

Stevie _had_ been lost. She had no family, no home, and losing her magic meant losing herself. Running away had been so…right. Warren knew this; he wasn't angry at Stevie for running, he was angry that she had felt that she couldn't tell him her feelings. They had never gotten along, but even as kids they had always been able to express their thoughts to each other. When he came back after his absence, they _liked_ each other; they had become friends; they talked, they made up for the past. Now it was gone.

Warren shook his head. "I don't know what to do…"

He didn't want to hurt his sister again.

As siblings, they both carried so much guilt that it seemed to define the direction their lives took. Warren, guilty for leaving his sister behind, and Stevie, guilty for betraying her brother, had become products of a system that didn't care about them. It was such a mess.

Alex spoke up. "I know what to do." Warren looked at her without hope. "I already told Stevie this, but from what it sounds like, the competition wasn't fair—you've been trained, she hasn't. Technically that's against Council rules, and the Council's _all_ about the rules."

There was also a certain amount of fault involved on the Council's part, because whether or not the Council wanted to admit it, they had neglected Warren and Stevie as kids, denying them the magical resources wizards needed to understand their magic. And they had forgotten entirely about Stevie long after Warren left, when the Council's job was to help its wizards, not bury them.

"So, what I'm saying," Alex finished, "is that the Council's screwed."

Warren didn't seem convinced, but he was too tired to shoot down the only glimmer of hope he had seen in months. He sighed.

"We'll see," he replied. "For now, I'm going to take Stevie back to my home for a little while, until I can talk to the Council myself." He took out a pen and a receipt from his wallet, writing a series of digits on the back of it and giving it to Alex. "This is my cell phone number." He leaned down, slipping one arm under Stevie's legs and the other behind her back. With Stevie's sudden reappearance, the spell restricting Warren's travel had vanished.

Alex looked at the card, the area code unfamiliar, and then her stomach dropped. "…Where are you taking her, exactly?"

Warren had stood up, his wand in the hand under Stevie's back. "England." And then he disappeared.

Alex sat on the ground, staring at the spot where Warren had only been standing a second earlier. Numbness crept through her body.

She had never felt as utterly alone as she did at that very moment. Stevie was gone.

* * *

**Chapter 9: Stevie and Alex talk things out. **

**A/N: **The theme of this chapter was definitely the concept of "running"…I used that word multiple times in various contexts to show both Warren and Stevie's fears.

What I wanted to really illustrate in this chapter was that Stevie has always put up a front about her relationship with Warren, and that she's actually fairly attached to him. I know I never really made that incredibly apparent, but it was supposed to be very subtle, especially in the flashback scenes. She's creating a revolution not just so she can keep her powers, but to keep her mind off of what she did to Warren.

Stevie's admittance that perhaps _she's _the coward, not Warren, is important too. I've had Stevie call Warren a "coward" consistently throughout this story. It's primarily because that's been Stevie's main problem with Warren—that he's afraid of things. But in the end, they're actually both afraid. They have the same fears.

**Discrepancies that need to be addressed: **

I'm sure Stevie's age is confusing everyone by now, because if Stevie was almost eighteen when Warren returned, then that means she's nineteen years old currently in this story, which wouldn't make sense if she's a junior in high school. I'll explain this in the next chapter.

Also, I'm super aware the Wizard Competition doesn't go down like the way I described it, but I disliked the WOWP movie, and I felt like the competition was very watered down (fighting over a literal ball of power….okay.). And it being limited to elemental magic? Please. I really feel like the competition shouldn't be about who captures what first, it should be opponents focusing on each other. I mean, that's what it's all about.

Anyway, this was so long, I'm sorry, but this is a huge part of the story, and I felt like I really needed to annotate it just to get it out of my system.


	9. For the Want of Nothing

**CHAPTER 9**

"For the Want of Nothing"

* * *

Warren's hair was a long river of black locks until he was nineteen. He kept it tied back in a ponytail, and then one day, he cut it off with a pair of rusty scissors. The back of his neck felt cold and naked, but it reminded him that the past was a buried weight he didn't need to carry anymore.

He ended up in the Wizard World unconscious, and he spent a week after that in a dazed, terrified state of wandering. He found an old man with an old house, a big, very empty old house, who gave him a wand and a few encouraging words.

Each year he thought of his sister, each year he wanted to bring her back, but the unbridled hatred between them was enough to make him stop and reconsider. He loved Stevie, but he knew she would hate him for bringing her there to stay with the brother she openly despised, learning things she had no interest in. He hoped she was okay. He hoped she hadn't taken the road not followed. He hoped she made good decisions.

But she hadn't.

Warren sat in his kitchen, watching the clock methodically tick its sixty-second round.

He didn't remember his dad. But what he did know he tried to keep simple: Wesley Yi Nichols was a wizard who married a wizard who bore two wizards, and then he died. Warren wasn't bitter toward his dad, but even then, things would've been a lot easier if Wesley kicked the bucket at a more conventional age, like 80, rather than 34. He liked magic, he was good at it, he went to college, he met Barbara Nomura at a flower shop…

Warren inhaled the air around him and dropped his face into outstretched hands. If he was destined to end up like either parent, he was in deep trouble. Dead before forty or alcoholically-dependent were two roads he'd abstain from if he could help it. But right now, it seemed like Stevie was headed for one of them, whether he liked it or not. She was a mess.

What was he going to do?

His phone rang, and he glanced down at it. That girl, Alex…Stevie's girlfriend. He answered. They talked. Yes, Stevie's okay. No, she hasn't lost her powers. She's asleep. She'll call you when she wakes up…She's very tired…I don't think she's slept in a while. Okay, good night. Nice talking to you.

Alex didn't seem like a bad kid. She was tattoo-less and worried about his sister, and she had a family and friends. That was more than Tseng's gang had ever offered her. More than he had, too. Maybe Stevie wasn't as down and out as he had thought. Maybe she was staying in school, maybe she had a good life. Maybe she even joined the track team or something.

He sighed. He couldn't even fool himself.

He glanced up to the ceiling, where he knew one floor above Stevie was asleep in his room. Her exhausted body and sunken, panicked eyes were enough to say that she was still very much in the same boat she had been in back in LA. Things hadn't changed at all.

* * *

When Stevie was sixteen years old, she flunked her sophomore year of high school.

She was dating Liz and living at Tseng's at the time. It was all a blur, those days, black and hazy, a mix of danger and dirt, and Stevie just stopped going to school. She called it her dark period, where for four months she drank in the aggression Liz liked to play around with, forging a relationship that wasn't easy to sever.

The things she did back then…

She lost herself that year, and when she looked in the mirror, swollen eyes glared back at her with a meanness they had never held before.

It made her uneasy. She found Liz the next day and told her she was out. She'd told Tseng already. She was leaving and wasn't coming back.

It had been a long night after that; Stevie remembered a lot of yelling, and Liz eventually punched her in the face and broke her nose.

Now nearly nineteen, Stevie felt much the same way, trapped in a cycle of consequences she deserved but couldn't really handle. She felt tired and drained, her shoulders aching under the stress of lying for nearly a year.

Lying in bed, exhaustion permeated her body. She missed Alex.

* * *

School was officially out for the summer, and all Alex could do was stare at her phone.

It was already ninety degrees, far passed her comfort level, and the day at the lake with her family was growing tedious. She hadn't wanted to go anyway; like most girls her age, she was forced out of parental obligation and her brothers' constant nagging, to which she finally threw up her hands and gave in. But her presence didn't really matter; she was about as disconnected from familial appreciation as the next person (literally, the family sitting next to the Russos looked borderline homicidal).

Alex found herself distracted and uninterested; she felt stuck; she felt worried. She hadn't heard from Stevie all week.

Well, damn. She never used to get worried over anything. She never used to check her phone this much. It was so obnoxiously unlike her that she eventually gave it to her mom to avoid further self-sabotage.

"Good," Teresa said, shoving the cell phone into her purse. "I've had enough of you spacing out."

If Alex actually cared she would've felt insulted by that, but maybe she _was_ spacing out a little. She didn't even notice Harper sit down next to her, start talking, and then pass her a sandwich.

"…Alex?" Harper said, poking her with the end of a ham-and-cheese croissant. "Are you okay?"

Yes. Or no. Maybe. It all depended on the variable? Alex shrugged. "I'm fine." So, she'd tried calling Warren's cell phone twice since she'd first talked to him, but the first time Stevie was asleep and the second time Warren was at work. It was Friday now.

"…I'm sure Stevie's just dealing with her brother. You know, it _has_ been a while," Harper replied, her helpfulness fairly unhelpful, but at least she was giving it a go. "I think she'd want you to have fun."

Alex snorted. "Please, even if Stevie _was_ in Manhattan, I still wouldn't have fun here." She looked at all of the functional families enjoying their lakeside adventures. Ugh. Really, hell would freeze over the day she actually enjoyed happy people.

But Alex had little time to stew in her own teenage angst, because Jerry and Teresa were calling them over for ice cream. She sighed. Okay. At least ice cream was cool and inanimate. She stood up with Harper, and just as she was about to leave their area, her phone went off.

Alex froze, then just as quickly seemed to spring back to life, diving for her mother's handbag with such athleticism that it scared the family one space over. She tossed out the contents of the bag and grabbed her phone, answering it quickly.

"Hello?"

"…Hello?" The voice that replied sounded far away and groggily, but Alex knew who it was. Her heart rate sped up.

"Stevie?"

"Hi, Alex." Even as tired as her voice was, it still sounded warm.

Alex swallowed heavily, feeling a lump forming in her throat and trying to fight it off. She stood up, forgetting about the ice cream.

Alex breathed in deeply. Now that she had the chance to actually talk to Stevie, she wasn't sure what to say. The silence filled one end of the conversation until Alex finally said, "Are you done with England yet? I'm stuck at a lake with my family, and that's never okay." She swallowed. That was not what she had meant to say, but really, it was code for _I'm worried sick, get your ass back here so I can watch tv in peace for five stupid minutes._

Stevie laughed lightly. "…I'll be back soon…I have to get things sorted out first…But I miss you."

Alex felt the same lump in her throat return. "I miss you too…" _I miss you so much_. She swallowed again. "Oh, where does Warren live—"

Stevie abruptly cut her off. "Warren needs his phone. I got to go—Bye, Alex—" The phone hung up with a loud click.

The lump in Alex's throat didn't go away this time, and when Harper asked, "How's Stevie doing?", she didn't know what to say.

Maybe Alex was tired, too, because the moment she got home, she went upstairs, turned on the television, and fell into a bizarre, unfamiliar trance, the lights of the television screen reflecting off her face. She didn't realize it, but Friday night quickly melted into Sunday evening, her room seeming to transcend time altogether.

Loneliness wasn't something Alex liked, and she couldn't say she was lonely now, but there was a certain emptiness in her chest that seemed to lock away her energy and her cleverness. She felt resigned to doing nothing, which was ordinary, but it was a sort of nothing that irritated her.

Maybe she was angry at Stevie. She didn't really know. She'd never been in a relationship this long before. She didn't know she'd feel this way. It wasn't a part of the plan. Their lines of communication had always been so solid, and now, she couldn't even say where either of them stood. She spent the weekend painting, the only connection she could articulate between her botched up feelings and an actual hobby, but in the end, she didn't really produce anything but unfinished canvases. They looked...cold. She inhaled a deep breath, let it out, and then went to bed early.

"Are you sick or something?" Justin asked on Sunday night, peering into the darkness of Alex's room from the doorway. He waited a second for a reply, and when there was none, opened the door and slipped inside, half-expecting full-frontal rage from his territorial sister.

When Alex didn't react, he sighed. "...So, paint anything good?"

From where he stood, the grayness of the room made the shadows of Alex's body disappear into the blankets of her bed, wasting into a nothingness Justin had never seen before. The room's graveness startled him, and he was caught between leaving his sister alone or insulting her, if only to shake the cold atmosphere.

"Dinner's ready…" Justin trailed off when he saw his sister shift her weight only slightly.

"I already ate," Alex mumbled, her voice low and achy from her long-held silence.

Justin sighed and turned around, slowly moving toward the door with a hesitation that indicated he had something else on his mind. He stopped at the entrance, his mouth a tight line.

When he turned around, he said, "I don't know what's really going on. It's your business, I get it." He glanced down at the carpet. "But I think you should have this." Between his fingers was a single slip of paper, and he let it float onto a chair's cushion. "Mom and Dad are out until midnight. You should probably leave now."

When the door shut with a click, Alex sat up, the drowsiness of her laziness hitting her roughly in the face. She stumbled out of bed and flicked on a light, scanning the room as she tried to make sense of what Justin had just said. Leave now? What had he meant by that?

She found the piece of paper lying on her chair. It was an address with no name.

"What the…?" She read down the four lines of the address, catching her breath as she realized what it was.

A British address.

It was Warren's address!

Okay, so this probably indicated Justin wasn't half as stupid as Alex liked to believe, and that he possibly knew just what the hell was going on with her and Stevie, but who _cared_, he found Warren's _address_. How? What? When? These questions would've absolutely mattered had Alex been remotely interested in anything outside Stevie Nichols at that very moment. She had little time to actually think her plan through; she ran to her closet and pulled on leggings and a blouse, looking around her for the wand she hadn't used since last week. It was stashed under her pillow.

She grabbed it and disappeared.

* * *

If she hadn't been so sure of her destination, Alex would've thought she ended up in the bottom of a dark ditch somewhere. The room she appeared in was pitch black, and it was only then that she remembered the time difference; it was nearly two in the morning in England. Incoherent and blind, Alex held up her want and muttered something about light, until a small bright ball of fire appeared out of nowhere, buzzing around her shoulders like a fly. It did the trick; the room, though cast in shadows, was at least somewhat visible now.

It didn't take long for Alex to realize where she was; she was standing in front of a bed, and in the bed was an exhausted Stevie, completely knocked out and still as night. It made her stomach hurt.

The ball of light moved with Alex as she made her way to the bed, sitting down carefully on Stevie's side and setting her wand on a nearby table.

Alex whispered her name, shaking her shoulder lightly. "…Stevie?"

The light from Alex's wand was doing a better job than Alex was; Stevie stirred under the fire's rays, and when she opened her eyes slightly, she looked unsure and confused. She blinked a few times, bringing a hand to her face, before she realized who was sitting in her front of her.

"…Alex…?" she murmured, scrunching her brow together. And then her eyes adjusted and she sprung up, "God, you're really here—" She threw her arms around Alex, and Alex mirrored her actions, the two hugging each other so tightly they both nearly fell off the bed.

It would have been a feeling of relief knowing Stevie was okay, but the girl before her looked more like a hollow shell; it only made the dropping motion of her stomach worse. She kissed Stevie's neck, hugged her tighter, and the two girls sat together in utter disbelief at the other's presence.

When Stevie pulled back from the hug, she had wide eyes. "I can't believe you're here."

Alex shook her head and leaned in, kissing Stevie on the mouth for a very long time. It had only been a few days, but she felt like she hadn't seen Stevie in months. A bad feeling lurked in her gut that wouldn't go away.

They eventually parted sometime later, Stevie washing her face in the bathroom, leaving Alex temporarily alone. She looked around the room. It was bare and unused, a guest bedroom if there ever was one, meticulously clean and completely Warren. There wasn't much in terms of decoration, save a small frame with a picture of two kids, each with long, shoulder-length dark hair. It took a second for Alex to realize it was Stevie and Warren five years ago—they both looked completely different now.

Stevie re-entered the room, looking more awake than she did before. The color in her face, though far removed from the vibrancy she used to have, was returning slowly, and she sat down next to Alex, leaning into her.

"I was thirteen in that picture," Stevie remarked, amused. "Warren and I actually look like siblings then, huh?"

Alex didn't bother nodding, but with the mention of Warren, said, "Where's your brother?"

Stevie looked away from the picture. "Downstairs on the couch. This is his room—pretty bland, it looks like no one lives here."

She was right. Alex briefly wondered what the rest of the flat looked like, but she didn't care; she only had one thing on her mind. Shifting slightly, she looked over at Stevie and asked, "When are you coming back home?"

It had been bothering her for a while now; she just wanted for Stevie to get back to Manhattan Island as soon as possible. Home was more miserable than usual without her, and she missed her partner in crime. Quite simply, she was getting lonely.

Stevie glanced back at her. "The week after next. Warren's in the middle of getting permission to see the Wizard Council; this entire thing's a mess." She sighed. "Look how jacked up this is." She grabbed something out of the desk drawer; it was her wand, and she flicked it neatly, muttering a spell in Latin. Alex looked surprised to see nothing happen. "My powers are on suspension until next Wednesday. It's so fucking stupid. If I wanted to be this magic-less I would've just given my powers to Warren last year."

Alex looked offended enough for the both of them, until she realized, "If your powers are only suspended, that means the Council is considering your position, right? Stevie, this is good!"

Stevie shrugged. "I guess. But this trial is stressing me out. I just want the next two weeks to get the hell over with." She took another breath and then took hold of Alex's hand. "I'm really glad you're here." She paused. "I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to really talk last week. I was so tired."

"You still look tired," Alex replied, and then glanced at the clock. It was passed three. "You should get back to sleep…" She sighed and started to stand.

Stevie's hand shot out, grabbing onto her wrist. She caught Alex's gaze with her own, pulling her back down and into a soft yet compassionate kiss. "Stay with me," she murmured, cupping Alex's face and kissing her again. Alex could feel the heaviness of Stevie's words, tinged with the same loneliness and longing she felt.

She let Stevie push her down onto the bed, her hands resting at her waist as Alex gave in, stringing her own fingers through Stevie's hair. Even as they kissed, Alex still couldn't push the feeling from her mind that something wasn't right. It was unsettling, but she eventually forgot about it as Stevie's hands massaged into her shoulders, sweeping her mind away from anything else.

* * *

Alex couldn't fall asleep like Stevie had; the time difference revoked that privilege the moment she stepped into England. She lay awake, staring at the dark ceiling. Stevie's head was resting on Alex's chest, her arms wrapped around Alex's stomach loosely. It was going to be hard to leave.

She brushed her hair absentmindedly, feeling the warmth of Stevie's skin and breath.

Alex's experiences with the Wizard Council, while few, had not been the most unpleasant things in the world. As almighty as the Council was, they had always been fair. Alex had screwed up so many times it was a wonder she still had her powers. What would Warren say to them? He _worked_ for them, for crying out loud. He had to have some form of leverage.

A powerless Stevie was unsettling, not because Stevie would turn mortal, but because she knew how to manage her magic so well. With her irresponsibility came an intense brilliancy that was perhaps overlooked by the danger of her spells. They shared the same cleverness that governed their magical decisions, but Stevie took it to a whole new level: she could actually use her powers for something other than pranks and disaster-insurance. It just seemed so…wrong to take them from her. It was a part of her identity. She'd grown up because of it.

The revolution had been a stupid idea, but it made so much sense at the same time. Stevie wasn't evil, she had been wronged; she was thinking about the greater good.

She glanced down at Stevie, then at the clock. It was almost five in the morning. Her parents would be home soon in New York.

Quietly she slipped out of Stevie's embrace, not wanting to leave but knowing she had to. She grabbed her wand.

As she left, she glanced back at Stevie with a longing she couldn't describe. And when she reappeared in her bedroom, she fell onto her bed noiselessly.

"I don't know what to do," she said to no one.

* * *

**Chapter 10: ?**

**A/N: **I'm so sorry I haven't been able to respond to your reviews; my internet access has been highly unreliable lately. :( But I just wanted to tell everyone thank you SO much for breaking the 60 mark; that really means a lot for a such an under-loved couple, so you all our absolutely amazing. :)

Anyway! There are so many things I wanted to flesh out in this story that I decided I just can't add in anymore. I'd love to talk more about Warren and where he was all those years ago, and it's be great to explain why Stevie left's Tseng's group. But these things are less crucial to the story line than they are to the characters themselves.

Please review? Chips, cookies, sandwiches, steak and a salad…your choice! :)


	10. The Shock of a Bullet

**CHAPTER 10**

"The Shock of a Bullet"

* * *

"Two months of community service, fucking hell."

Stevie tugged uncomfortably at the skirt around her thighs, yanking it lower only to readjust it again. Or maybe it wasn't the skirt, maybe it was the tights, one size too small and clinging to her legs with an irritating itchiness. It was all slightly reminiscent of a five-year-old fussing with the frills and impracticality of a tea-time dress, only it was a near nineteen-year-old sitting outside the Council's chamber doors on a bench, frustrated and feeling stupid.

Warren sat next to her, looking through his bag, distracted. "It's better than two years in prison. The Council went easy on you." He finally seemed to find the item he was looking for when he pulled out a miniature stack of clothes, which magically transformed into a set of jeans and a t-shirt, along with a sandwich. "Here."

Stevie took the change of clothes gratefully from Warren, her wand and other magical necessities still stuck at home. "Oh, thank God, I was seconds away from ripping this stupid excuse of a blouse off." She motioned to her top, which was ugly no matter what way you looked at it, and then glanced at the food. "A sandwich? What, no apple juice and a cookie, Mom?" Warren gave her a look, to which Stevie shrugged.

The trial hadn't been so much of a trial as it had been a complete investigation of the Wizard Council itself; tidbits of the Nichols' neglect had surfaced throughout the federal district of the Wizard World, where enchanted lawyers and bureaucrats spent a week discussing the regulations behind the Council and their use of the Wizard Competition. It was worth it. Stevie's revolution was pardoned in the face of the Council's corruption, and Stevie was granted full use of her powers with minor community service to complete on the side.

Warren had gotten to them. His and Stevie's mistreatment by the Council was enough to force them to reconsider the effectiveness of the Wizarding welfare system, the timing of the Wizard Competition, and its legitimacy as a whole. They'd have to redo the Competition later, of course—just many, many years later.

The journey home was wrought in silence and contemplation, Stevie staring into the depths of nothingness as she drowned in directionless thoughts. The mess was over, and maybe she had really set up some form of change within the Council's system; new legislation was already being debated upon, and the Wizard Competition was being revalued in some way or another.

It was therapeutic. Stevie felt better. She'd caught up on the sleep she'd lost, there had been a few apples a day to keep the doctor away, and now there was nothing left to do but try to move on. She and Warren had somehow settled into a lifestyle fit for a family, trading in their loneliness for a new life together, even with all the bumps and fights along the way. England wasn't so much a culture-shock as it was simply getting lost a whole lot, not knowing where anything was, and trying to figure out the best route to the grocery store.

But even then, Stevie was dying to get back to Manhattan Island. She hadn't seen Alex in two weeks, and they'd barely talked on the phone. She missed her immensely.

They got back to Warren's apartment at half-passed eight, the darkness of the evening filling the flat until a light was switched on. Stevie fell with a groan onto the couch, face first into a pillow, claiming utter exhaustion. Warren moved passed her and slumped onto a chair, sinking into it with the same tiredness Stevie showed. They sat together in silence.

Warren glanced at the ceiling, then looked at his sister. "Hey, Stevie?"

Stevie mumbled something incoherent into the pillow as a sign that she was listening.

Warren rubbed his temples. "I need to know your plan of action for the future." He paused, then continued, "So that I can figure out what to do."

Stevie glanced up. "What?"

"I mean…Things were pretty solid a year ago back is Los Angeles, when you didn't have any reason to stay there. When you wanted to come live with me." He sighed. "But now…Things are slightly more complicated."

Right. Stevie hadn't given much thought to the future, outside the short term run of her powers and the Council's decision.

"You still want me to live with you?" It was probably a stupid question, but after all the crap she'd had done, she wasn't sure she'd even want to live with herself right then.

Warren nodded. "The lease on this apartment is up at the end of the month. I'm looking for a bigger one right now, so you can have your own room." He glanced over. "But Stevie, this isn't something you have to do. I know you've made a life for yourself in New York."

And by 'life', Warren meant Alex, who was the shining light in Stevie's dim, rocky future. Love was sticky, and thus Alex was a complicated variable in an equation Stevie hadn't figured out yet, stewing in the difficulty that came with major life decisions. Warren was right; a year ago Stevie had jumped at the chance just to get five feet away from Los Angeles. Now, she wasn't really sure what she wanted to do.

Alex meant everything to her. She was the vital ingredient that helped Stevie thrive. She loved her.

Stevie tiredly ran a hand over her face. "I don't know," she mumbled. "I need to talk to Alex."

Warren seemed to expect this, because he nodded with what seemed to be some form of understanding in his face.

Even in Stevie's most elaborate daydreams, there was always the general storyline that included an explicit pattern of world domination and magical take-overs, or stupid pranks, or burning Tribeca Prep's gym down so that the cheerleaders wouldn't have a place to cheer anymore. Yet there was also a place in the depths of Stevie's heart, where an imaginary house sat by the beach, with something that resembled a white picket fence, and then there was Alex, and they were married. It was embarrassing and godly stupid, but Stevie knew Alex was _it_…The one for her.

Call her a sap, call her naive, but Stevie had never felt so undyingly certain about another living thing in her entire life, and she'd gone through more than enough in her nineteen years of breathing oxygen.

"So, this Alex is a good one, then?"

Stevie glanced over at Warren, and then laughed under her breath. "Her parents don't let her stay out after eleven, and she's not allowed to pierce anything but her earlobes."

"Wow, she is a good one."

Yeah, she really was.

* * *

At eight o' clock the next night, Stevie stood outside her apartment's front door, wondering why she didn't just zap herself straight into her bedroom instead. She felt unusually hesitant, which was irritating, but she'd been gone long enough to know that Barbs had probably noticed her three-week absence.

When she finally unlocked the front door, her greeting was less of a welcome than it was a warning.

"You know, you'd probably be pregnant by now if you didn't screw girls." Barbara Nichols always did know how to throw an insult with the force of a flying bullet. She hissed out the same poison she liked to drink every night, clouded under a combined haze of Jack and wine. She had her arms crossed and was leaning against the kitchen counter. "Where the hell have you been?"

Stevie stood in the center of the living room. The apartment looked even older and more decrepit than it did the last time she was there; trash stained the floor, now home to six-legged things, and stuffing from the sofa cushions was leaking over the rims of its fabric covers. The lighting was low and orange, casting the room in a familiar shade of dimness. She hadn't missed this place very much.

"England." The words rolled off Stevie's tongue like a loaded gun, aimed at her mom's forehead. She hit the target dead center; Barbara's face stiffened, and she looked insulted.

"Oh really? You think your brother can take better care of you than I can?"

Stevie walked passed the kitchen door, heading for the staircase. "I don't need Warren to take care of me."

Barbara moved from the doorway and into the living room. "Look at you, acting like a grown up. You think things'll be better over there? What deluded world do you live in?"

The argument was generic and ineffective, because Stevie had heard it a thousand times. If her mother hated Stevie, then she absolutely loathed Warren, who in her mind was a perfect replica of the man that left them all behind.

"Who cares?" Stevie snarled, turning back to face her mom. She wasn't looking for a fight, but she was starting to feel uncertain and confused, which usually pissed her off because it freaked her out. She hated feeling unsettled.

Barbara was clearly drunk. She seemed to have trouble finding a straight path toward the staircase, catching her balance on the wall nearby. "You're as much of a failure as your brother is; two screw ups only make a bigger mess— Get back down here, I'm not done talking to you—"

"I'm not in the mood for this right now," Stevie murmured, the insult loaded but expected. She turned around and started up the stairs again, when she felt something smash into the wall just inches from her face. Startled, Stevie dropped to one knee as another bottle shattered just above her crouched body, liquor pouring down wall. "What the _hell_—"

Barbara was holding another bottle in her hand. "That's a warning, you spoiled little—"

Stevie didn't have time to hear the colorful name Barbara had in store for her, because she had reached the top of the stairs and the threshold of her door, sprinting inside and locking the door behind her.

Even though the bottle of liquor had missed its target, its contents had done the job. She reeked of whiskey and something else she couldn't really identify, and her shirt and hair were doused and sticky. Ugh. Fantastic.

Feeling pathetic and disgusting, all Stevie wanted to do was see Alex, and maybe take a shower, but with her mom on a raging rampage, the shower deal probably wouldn't happen within a twenty mile radius of her apartment. With a sigh, Stevie reached for the wand in her left boot, and with a new appreciation for magic, disappeared from her room silently.

* * *

Stevie stared awkwardly at Alex's front door, and started to wonder why she suddenly abided by mortal limitations like private property. She rubbed the back of her neck, then took a deep breath, and knocked against the door's wooden surface.

It took a few seconds and an expected sound of annoyance from the house's occupant, but when the door opened, Stevie hadn't realized the full extent of her longing for Alex until she saw her standing there.

"The front door, really?" Alex deadpanned, and then her lips moved into a smirk, and Stevie felt so relieved that she pulled her into a long, much needed kiss, right there in the publicity of an open hallway for anyone to see.

"I've missed you," Stevie murmured, kissing her again, and then again, and one more time after that. Alex looked pretty; her hair was curled and she was wearing a purple blouse, and Stevie was fairly sure she had never seen a better picture in her entire life.

"Did you just get back?" Alex asked, taking Stevie's hand and leading her into the living room. "Because your timing's pretty much amazing—you and I happen to be the only ones home right now, and I haven't seen you in two full, utterly boring weeks." Alex wrapped her arms around Stevie's neck. "How was England?"

Stevie snuggled into the embrace. "British. I'm glad I'm back." She breathed in the scent of Alex's hair, and then a thought struck her. "Oh, I got you something." She backed away for a second to rummage through her book bag, and a second later pulled out what looked like a stack of CDs. "This is British underground indie rock. It's so loud you almost can't understand the lyrics. You'll love it."

Alex took the containers and sorted through them, interested. "Oh, my favorite kind." She glanced back at Stevie. "Why do you smell like you took a bath in whiskey?"

After Stevie convinced Alex that it was a long, uneventful story that involved angry parentals, she asked if she could use her shower.

Twenty minutes later, Stevie was toweling off her hair as she walked into Alex's bedroom to find her reading a magazine. Stevie smiled and leaned into the threshold of the bedroom door, content, warm, and perfectly at home.

"What?" Alex asked, glancing over, and Stevie shook her head. She maneuvered over to the other girl and slid onto the bed next to her, to which Alex tossed the magazine aside. They smiled at each other.

"Hi."

"Hi."

Stevie grinned, then leaned in and pressed her mouth to Alex's, the familiarity of her lips sparking a sense of longing and comfort that she hadn't felt in a long time. She couldn't really describe how badly she had missed Alex; she had never entirely understood the idea that distances made the heart grow fonder until she realized just how epically far England was.

Stevie pulled away from the kiss after a few minutes, a thought crossing her mind. "What do you think of me?" she asked, tracing her fingers across Alex's shoulder, drifting over strands of dark brown hair.

Alex looked up, and then paused for a while before she said, "Right now, I think you're a tease," she said, trying to kiss Stevie again, but Stevie laughed and buried her face into Alex's hair.

"C'mon, I'm serious…"

"Ugh, _why_, I hate serious anything…" Alex complained as she played with the plaid shirt Stevie was wearing. Then she sighed and gave in. "Okay…" She scrunched her brow. "I don't know, you say you're a slacker, but you're totally ambitious, and smart, and fun, and…gorgeous." Alex grinned and pulled Stevie's face into another kiss before adding, "Why?"

Stevie gave her a half-apologetic, half-amused look, twirling a lock of Alex's hair around her finger. "…I don't really know." She tried to think of the best way to explain her sudden interest, but even as ambitious and smart as Alex thought she was, she had never been good at explaining things. "I guess I just want to know why you're still with me. Even after everything that happened."

It wasn't very hard to understand that Stevie still felt guilty and undeserving, both Warren and Alex walking reminders of what she'd darkly accomplished in the last year. Anxiety purged her stomach yet cluttered her brain, a constant presence even in her attempts to forget the past. But what really bothered her was Alex; Alex wasn't angry or distrusting, or even slightly bitter with Stevie. She could put the past behind her in a way Stevie never could.

Alex looked at her incredulously. "Are you kidding me?" She scoffed like it was literally the dumbest question on the face of the planet, and then gave Stevie a look that verified it by raising an eyebrow. "I'm with you because you're here with me, and no one else makes me feel this way, and we trust each other." For a moment she seemed annoyed with the sappiness of her description, because a sentimental Alex was akin to something in an alternate dimension. Yet her face softened, and then she murmured, "I love you, Stevie."

Her words were the exact antidote Stevie needed right then, lifting a mixture of anxiety and uncertainty she was in a constant cycle of experiencing lately. Stevie smiled and leaned in. "I love you, too."

They shared a stare of silent understanding, and then Alex moved in closer, cupping Stevie's face and kissing her with an unadulterated sense of compassion, her hands sliding down to her shoulders, her touch light and gentle. Their breaths caught as Alex pushed Stevie onto the bed, only to crawl on top of her with a shared smirk gracing their expressions. She kissed her again, opening her mouth and tasting her tongue, measured and heavy as Stevie's arms went around her waist.

They kissed slowly, taking in the other's presence, the longing of a near month apart evaporating under their union. Stevie stifled her surprise when she felt Alex's hands trace down her sides and over her stomach, toying at the hem of her shirt before lifting it up. Stevie pulled back from the kiss only for a second, surprised, and then smiled softly, pulling the shirt over her head and tossing it to the side.

Alex leaned back in, pressing her mouth to Stevie's in a series of quick kisses. Stevie paused when her own fingers traced the edges of Alex's top, brushing the skin of her stomach, but Alex's arm lifted and the blouse was on the ground in the next second, forgotten.

"Alex," Stevie murmured when Alex's mouth moved to her jaw line and then to her neck, "We don't have to..." But she was caught in the moment and instead moved her hands to the dip of Alex's back, bringing her closer.

Alex pulled back slightly, locking her eyes with Stevie's. She smirked. "You're such a wimp, Nichols."

And right then, Stevie forgot everything else except the girl staring down at her with that knowing, beautiful half-smile, her hair spilling over her shoulders, eyes alive and on fire.

Stevie smirked back, then lifted her mouth to Alex's ear and whispered, "Not even close, Russo." And with strength that caught Alex off guard, Stevie flipped the other girl over, slipping a leg around Alex's hips and straddling her. She nuzzled her neck, kissing down toward her collar bone, then lower toward her cleavage. Her hands trailed across her ribcage until she met with the back of Alex's bra strap, unclipping it and pushing it off of her.

Yet as she pulled her hands away from Alex's back and down toward the button of her jeans, her elbow hit something, square and plastic. The British rock albums.

Stevie froze. Oh, god. She'd forgotten.

Alex noticed Stevie's sudden pause, catching her breath and then sitting up slightly, her arm holding up the bra that was slipping off. "What's wrong?"

Stevie sat up as well, thoughts racing through her mind as she realized this was happening all wrong. She looked across the room, then looked back at Alex. "I need to tell you something." She grabbed Alex's shirt and handed it to her. Alex had never looked as vulnerable as she did at that very moment, arms around her body as the contemplation of a possible disaster washed over her face. She seemed small and insecure, but as she pulled on her shirt and brushed back her bangs, her form regained its near conceited confidence. She waited.

Stevie had finished dressing, but all she could do was stare at the bedside table's lamp, watching its low glow try to ward off the darkness of the room. Shadows were everywhere.

"Stevie?"

Stevie glanced up, locking her eyes with Alex, and then she said, clear yet hushed, "Warren wants me to live with him. In England." If it was possible, the room sunk into a silence tense enough that it was nearly deafening. The surprise was so clearly evident on Alex's face that Stevie's breath disappeared, and she crunched down hard on her teeth.

Alex stared, and then said, "I guess that makes sense." She stopped, then moved closer to Stevie. "What're you going to tell him?"

The dual hesitation and suspicion in Alex's voice was painful to hear, but Stevie couldn't blame her. She inhaled deeply. "I don't know. I wanted to talk to you first."

Alex shifted slightly.

The direction of their conversation wasn't masked in clouds. Stevie knew just what she had to tell Alex, but the words were stuck in the back of her throat, the anxiety thick and heavy as the reality of her situation sunk in. Maybe the instinct to run was still there, because Stevie felt the irritating sense to sprint from the room as fast as possible, and even after she shook it off, the idea hung around the back of brain like an inevitable direction.

"Alex…" Stevie started, and she didn't know why, but she laced her hand with Alex's, and then said, "I think it's…right…for me to go live with Warren for a while." Ever since her conversation with her brother, she had always known the answer, and when she saw the hurt on Alex's face, she quickly added, "Not forever—just until I can figure things out again…"

Alex stared. "How long?" Her voice sounded distant and unfamiliar.

Stevie hesitated. "I'm not sure…Warren was thinking two years—"

It was like those final words were the trigger that set their relationship into an inevitable collapse. Alex's hand recoiled away from Stevie's like she'd been stung, her eyes widening and shoulders tensing in a dramatic realization that Stevie was breaking up with her. She stood up quickly.

"Two years." She echoed Stevie's answer, and then anger seeped into her voice. "That's not 'for a while', Stevie, that's _two years_."

Two years was a long time, and it wasn't what Stevie wanted. What she wanted was to get away from Barbs and the mess she'd caused. If she could finish school and marry Alex right then and disappear into the sunset, she would've done it, but that would just be running away all over again, and Stevie was through with that. It wasn't fair to Alex. It wasn't fair to anyone.

Stevie was feeling slightly helpless as she said, "It's just what Warren was guessing on, I'm not even sure I agree with it."

"You sound like you do." Alex ran her hands through her hair. "Stevie, we've been together for nearly a year."

"I know."

"After all the crap that's happened, after everything _we've_ been through, you're leaving, just like that—"

"It's not just like that," Stevie nearly snapped, her own frustration gaining ground as she felt her entire well-thought out discussion tank. Her heart was racing against the pressure of the conversation, and she wanted badly just to go back in time and start things over. She didn't want to hurt Alex; they were so utterly on the same wave length that they rarely ever fought, making the times when they did almost unbearable.

Alex's brow scrunched together. "Is this about being trained?" Defiant toward the very end, Alex grabbed Stevie's hand and started pulling her toward her door. "My dad'll let you use anything in our lair if I ask him—"

"Alex—" Stevie halted to a stop, placing her hand over Alex's. "It's not that."

Alex let go immediately, looking frustrated and feeling helpless. "Then what is it?"

Stevie didn't know what to say or even how to say it, but she swallowed roughly and tried to say it anyway. Her voice came out shaky. "I really screwed up with Warren," she said thickly, struggling to find words, "I just feel like I need to fix it, I feel like that's the direction I need to go in…"

Alex's voice sharpened, and she whipped out, "You didn't do anything—he left you, Stevie!" She turned around and paced the room, sewing her frustrated hands through her bangs. "Why can't you see that?"

"I know, but I did the same thing to him!" Stevie shouted, overcome with grief, "He's the only family I have—"

"_No_," Alex snarled, walking towards Stevie angrily, "Don't try and pull that on me. _I'm_ the one that's been here for you all this time, because I'm the one that cares about you. _I've_ been more of a family to you than Warren ever has and you know it."

The words were sharp and seemed to slide into Stevie's gut with enough force that she lost her breath. Stevie blinked back the sting in her eyes and bit the side of her cheek. "You're right. You've always been there for me, even when I was only thinking about myself."

"Then why are you choosing Warren over me?"

Stevie shook her head, "I'm not—don't say that—"

Their hushed voices grew into sharp jabs, which developed into unbridled shouting. Alex crossed her arms over her chest with the same tenseness as a boxer guarding her body, and then she said, "What the hell do I mean to you then?"

A flash of pain washed over Stevie's face. "You mean everything to me—"

Alex cut her off. "But we're still ending this, right?" The words resonated loudly, and for the first time that night, Stevie had to come to terms with the idea of leaving Alex behind forever. The feeling spreading through her chest was like twisting her arm backwards—painful and immobilizing—and she suddenly felt that suffocating, all-encompassing feeling that came with wanting to cry.

It seemed to hit Alex roughly in the chest, too—that this was it. And maybe it was the utter heartbreak, maybe it was desperation, but her voice cracked, and she sounded so vulnerable as she murmured, "Please don't leave," and she grabbed Stevie's shoulders, kissing her hungrily, and Stevie, wrought in the shared pain, kissed her back.

When they parted, Alex searched Stevie's face, and then she said, "Let's get out of here for the rest of the summer—we still have a month before school starts—we can go anywhere…" She trailed off when she saw the doubt in Stevie's eyes. "…You're really leaving."

Stevie ran another hand through her hair. "I have to do this—try to understand—"

Alex shook her head. "I _can't_." Her voice was breaking as their fight dwindled down to a conclusion that wouldn't change, no matter how badly Alex pleaded.

"I don't ever want to hurt you," Stevie tried once again, but by that time they were far beyond any possible chance of feeling comforted.

"God, Stevie, you're moving to England—Did you even ask Warren if he could move here?"

Stevie had not, and the look on her face was enough to fuel the sense of betrayal rushing through Alex's mindset right then. Alex stepped away from Stevie. Her lips parted, and she said coldly, "Get out."

Even with the severity of their fight, those two words struck Stevie harder than anything else had. "Alex," Stevie started, but the look on Alex's face was harsh and unforgiving.

"…Just leave," Alex murmured, and she looked to the ground.

Stevie stood in silence, waiting for something, anything, but Alex was unwavering. Finally, she took out her wand and vanished without a sound.

Back home, Stevie's room was a lifeless, regretful scene when she appeared in the center of it. Lost and still in shock from her fight with Alex, Stevie threw her fist into the closest wall, but it did nothing to curb the anger she was feeling.

Tired and lost, Stevie slid to the ground. She buried her face into outstretched palms.

* * *

**CHAPTER 11: ?**

**A/N: **The ending argument really should have been written in Alex's point of view. Unfortunately without Alex's internal dialogue, she appears selfish and immature; I mean, she's ignoring Stevie's happiness in exchange for her own. But honestly, I DO feel Alex would've acted the way I wrote her; we've all seen WOWP—Alex is incredibly self-interested, and nearly every episode has her manipulating one thing or another to fit her personal needs.

Ugh, and I apologize for that horrendously written kissing scene. It sucks. I have no excuse except that I can't write action sequences unless they're stream-of-consciousness with loads of feelings. And clearly, that had no feeling to it at all. Apologies.

Okay, rant done, and now onto the next thing: I'm SO sorry this took so long to write! I am having ridiculously bad writers' block. It is driving me insane. THANK YOU SO MUCH to all of the wonderful, sweet, and kind reviews, everyone! You all are amazing! :)


	11. Remember Me True

**CHAPTER 11**

"Remember Me True"

* * *

Alex was shaking badly. She cupped her hand over her mouth to calm her bewildered senses, but it didn't do anything. Her stomach churned and her neck ached, and when she climbed into a steaming hot shower later that night, she couldn't hold it back anymore. Her brow tensed and she burst into tears.

It was an all out, sobbing-to-the-shower-walls sort of crying, where she let every sore emotion, every capped feeling, spill out under the guise of steam and water. She sat on the tiled floor, her faced buried into her bent knees, mouth-open and shoulders shaking. She didn't know how else to handle it. That intense, almost choking feeling that caused a lump in her throat, so thick she felt like she couldn't catch her breath. She cried and cried, until hours later, only cold water was left.

It was like the thoughts piled on one after the other, each a different enclave of towering emotions. How could Stevie do this to her? They were a _couple_, goddammit, there were unwritten rules that structured what they did and did not do, and abandonment was out of the question. By then didn't Stevie know her well enough to recognize moving to England was something that didn't fit into the repertoire she had built her life around?

It was like Stevie didn't care. Her willingness to move away with Warren angered Alex so much that she started crying all over again.

By the time she felt calm the water had cooled and was pounding into her tense, raw shoulder blades. Separate from the rest of the world, she stared numbly at the wall before her, watching the water leak down its front, disappearing down the drain seamlessly. She closed her eyes.

She was not a fantastic sort of person.

Ask anyone. Alex wasn't controlling, but she manipulated situations when the timing was right to fit her needs, ala magic or not. She was unabashedly self-interested. She thought of herself and what she could do to get what she wanted, and this was a regular occurrence. She couldn't remember the last time she had helped Harper or her brothers altruistically, rather than as a consequence of her irresponsibility. This wasn't news to her or anyone who knew her.

Stevie was different. She'd always been. Even when she met her for the first time, there wasn't a struggle. She fit into Alex's life seamlessly, like she'd always been there. They clicked in a way that evoked a sense of trust and respect. It was effortless. Alex never had to try with Stevie, never had to make things work out. They just…had.

When Stevie said she leaving, it was the first time there was a snag in the seam. Something ripped. And for the first time, Alex didn't know how to react. It was a problem magic couldn't fix. It wasn't a situation she could bend to her advantage. She could see the seams coming apart, and she couldn't find a way to keep the fraying edges together. So what had she done? She insulted and screamed at the only person who had ever understood her. She'd told her to get out. She'd hurt her.

The cold water sank through her hair and dripped down her face, and she blinked back the sting of staring too long. She was disgusted and ashamed with herself.

She didn't want to lose Stevie.

But there was still a part of Alex that felt betrayed, because she had always thought Stevie would stay with her. They had mapped out an unspoken contract of security, wound together by the love they held and the desire to be each other's strength and happiness. They had a mutual, amused sort of understanding that defined their relationship.

The weight of the pain was heavy on Alex's chest. Her eyes were swollen, and her nose and lips were red. She eventually turned off the water and climbed out of the shower, raw and shivering from the cold. She pulled on shorts and a shirt, and she didn't realize the top was Stevie's until she had crawled into bed. It hurt. A lot. She tore it off and dropped it on the ground, pulling on a sweatshirt instead.

The shirt was crumpled next to her dresser. She stared at it. It couldn't stare back, but Alex still felt like it seemed to know what an awful person she was, and what she had done to its owner.

The guilt made her stomach churn, but her sadness stole her thoughts away. Stevie was leaving forever. She shut her eyes tightly, feeling overwhelmed and heart broken. Tears slipped down the sides of her face. Defining the mix of anger and guilt she felt was exhausting—it wasn't even so much about facing the remainder of school without Stevie. It was about losing the person Alex trusted, about losing the girl that kissed the back of her hand when no one was looking. It was about losing the person who smiled at her with the same illuminating confidence they shared together. She was losing the person who made her feel whole.

She sighed and rolled her face into the pillow, squeezing her eyes shut.

* * *

The books on Stevie's shelf, once the pinnacle of her pride, were now dusty and scorned, and Stevie acknowledged them with a bitterness that made her stomach drop. The same books that had once brought calmness to her raging mind now only served as a reminder that things were no longer okay, that everything around her was falling apart.

The events just hours prior burned at the surface of her thoughts. She felt miserable.

What had she been thinking?

She had never expected Alex to welcome her decision with open arms, and even thinking back on it now, Stevie could see the faults in her plan, the insincerity of her words. She wished more than anything that she could make Alex see that she was a priority in Stevie's life, number one and unwavering. But now…Stevie had really screwed up.

There were so many things Alex was right about—that Stevie couldn't change. Stevie wanted to leave, she wanted to live with Warren, just to try and fix things, to make herself feel like a human being again.

But she didn't want to leave Alex.

She breathed in. Her mind was scrambling, but she had made her decision. She flipped open her phone and dialed Warren's number. "Hey, bro," she said good natured, glancing away from the bookshelf.

Warren sounded a lot less good natured as he answered, "Stevie…It's four in the morning…"

"Oh, the time difference…" She trailed off, running a hand into the water. "I just…I made up my mind about whether or not I should come live with you in England."

"…Hold on real fast," Warren mumbled, and a second later water could be heard in the background, and Stevie could only imagine he was washing his face. "Okay, what'd you decide?"

Stevie was silent on the other end of the line. Then she murmured, "I can't. I can't do it."

Even without saying anything, Warren's disappointment was leaden and palpable, and Stevie almost couldn't go through with betraying her brother again. She seemed to be letting one person down after the other, like an unstoppable bullet with fantastic aim. She felt terrible.

She continued, "I don't know how to say it," Stevie mumbled, running a hand through her hair, "It's not even just about hurting Alex, it's that I don't know if I can leave her—_I_ need her—"

Warren sighed. "I understand that she'd been there for you, Stevie, but…" He trailed off, then sighed. "Have you talked with her?"

"Yeah. She's really upset, and I'm not feeling so good about this…"

There was a long silence that wavered across the phone line, so present it was like a third person had entered their conversation. It took a few beats for Warren to formulate something to say, and it hit hard.

"You can't keep living with Mom."

Stevie was ready.

"I know. I'll move out or something…I haven't figured it out yet."

So, apparently, was Warren.

"You make it sound easy. With what money? I don't want to tell you what to do, but you've got to think about these things. You're not even out of high school yet."

Another long pause personified Stevie's uncertainty, but Warren wasn't willing to give up. He quickly added, "Stevie, I have everything over here…The Council will leave you alone longer if we stay together."

Stevie's shoulders hunched over. "I get that, but the Council is always going to ride my ass no matter who I'm living with."

"Look, this isn't even about all that. I want to make it up to you for all of those years I couldn't do anything—"

"Warren, you already have." Stevie sighed. "I'm the one who trapped you in City Hall for nearly a year."

"That doesn't matter. I want you to live with me. The past doesn't matter anymore!"

Even with Warren's words attempting to lift the guilt from her shoulders, Stevie still couldn't find a way to communicate that, no matter how many times Warren promised he could never hold anything against her, she would always feel guilty. Silence regained its very lasting hold over their dialogue.

"Just think about it a few days more, Stevie."

A few days more. Stevie sighed and shook her head. A few days more wouldn't change anything.

* * *

When Alex woke the next morning, her eyes were crusted and her lips were chapped. She felt horribly tired. The light from her window sashayed through her room with an aggression that made her head hurt, and she sat up defiantly, a hand draped over her eyes.

She glanced to the ground. Stevie's shirt was still in the same spot, crumpled, staring at her. Her stomach fell. Oh, right.

Her hand dropped from her eyes and down her nose, slipping passed her lips and hitting the bed with a thud. She inhaled deeply, looked around her room, and exhaled, heart heavy, head stuffy. What an awful night.

Even with the passing hours, Alex could still see the hurt on Stevie's face, but it was starting to blur. Now all that was left was a sharp, painful burning in her chest, etching a gaping hole that couldn't be filled. With another sigh, Alex pushed from her bed, searching the room for leggings and a shirt. She needed coffee. All cried out and feeling a growing numbness, Alex dressed herself and moved downstairs, avoiding the Sub Station and heading out through the back door. People would, undoubtedly, irritate her today.

But the coffee didn't do much. She stared into its contents with aggravation, finding its bitter taste unappealing and ineffective. What a crappy start to the day.

She and Stevie had utilized the hell out of this coffee shop all year, a personalized hang out spot when everyone else was off studying. Maybe she should've picked a different cafe, but then again, they went everywhere together. What if Stevie walked in, right then? Alex knew it wouldn't happen, but for the rest of her hour there, she stupidly watched the entrance, trying to look casual. But for every short-haired Asian girl that entered, none were Stevie.

Feeling tired and slightly sick, Alex eventually gave up, knowing that calling Stevie or even raiding her apartment would create better results than staking out a coffee shop. She was just about to leave when someone called out her name.

"…Alex?"

A guy's voice.

Disappointed, Alex looked at its owner. It was Bryan Grittle, a Tribeca Prep senior on the wrestling team with a notorious reputation for dating rebellious girls and dumping them the next week. He'd asked Alex out last year, which he apparently couldn't remember. What did he want now?

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Hey, Bryan."

Bryan smiled and sat down across from her, holding his own cup of coffee casually. "I'm surprised you're not with Harper or Stevie."

"Yeah, well, you know, birds of a feather need time apart, too."

Bryan laughed. "Good to know." He looked around the room, tapping his unoccupied set of fingers against the table's surface. "So…how's it going?"

Alex stared. "…Fine." Pause. "You?"

"Good. Wrestling. You know."

Not really. Alex never talked to Bryan. Or he never talked to her. But she had convinced herself she definitely didn't want regular communication with a guy who went through girls like a three-course meal.

"Doing anything fun over break?" He asked the question in a way that said he absolutely did not care at all what Alex did over break. He proved it by glancing at another girl's legs two tables over.

"No."

"Yeah, same here. Sucks."

They sat awkwardly together…awkwardly. Alex waited for him to leave, but he was frustratingly content.

Bryan sipped his coffee. "So…I was wondering about Stevie…"

No, no, _don't _wonder about Stevie. God, if there was ever a more fabulous time to kick her fallen, broken heart, it was now. What the hell did Bryan Grittles even care about Stevie Nichols, who was so far out of his general shooting range that even aiming seemed stupid?

"I was wondering if she was seeing anyone." Bryan scratched the back of his head. "I mean, I haven't really heard that she's dated anyone since she's been here…And I think she's really hot…"

What. Whatwhatwhatwhatwhat.

_Oh, screw you_, Alex internally snarled, feeling particularly attacked, even if Bryan was completely oblivious to the bomb he'd just dropped.

"And you know…with the summer starting and all…"

This guy really was a moron. Stevie wasn't even closeted. And she hated jocks.

"She's seeing someone," Alex managed through her teeth, even though her standing with Stevie was about as solid as falling rain. She added, slightly sarcastic, "but I'll let her know you're interested." Maybe if she and Stevie ever made up they could laugh hysterically over this.

Bryan nodded. "Hey, thanks." He stood up and winked. "See you around some time."

Ugh.

The moment Bryan's form disappeared from sight and Alex had shaken her ever growing disgust, she shoved from the table and stood up, angry but motivated. Oh, _that_ was it.

Still uncertain about Stevie, Alex stole a few steps into the restroom, slamming the door behind her. She knew who she wanted to talk to. She knew who she wanted to set straight. She flicked her wand.

She'd have to thank Bryan someday for pissing her off enough to actually do something.

Whoever said peaceful inspiration was the best motivator had never been seriously enraged before.

Her surroundings blurred into streaks of watery colors and shapes, the familiar sense of enchanted traveling trying to fill her senses, but she was too irked to notice. It took all of five seconds for the surroundings to rematerialize into a solid background, and Alex looked around.

She was standing in a kitchen, an open window to her left revealing it was considerably later, well passed dark.

She was in England.

Maybe she still had coffee in the back of her mind, because Alex had never seen Warren's kitchen and didn't know how she knew where it was, but it didn't matter. She was going to talk to him, and one of them would walk away victorious. And it was going to be her.

Looking around the kitchen for a door, Alex found what she was looking for and marched quickly over the tiles and through the threshold, hesitation gone.

Warren was sitting in the living room, reading a book only her own brother would know the title of.

"We need to talk," Alex snapped, scaring Warren half to death as the man nearly fell out of his chair.

Warren looked completely startled, his book dropping from his hands as he took in the girl standing in the center of his living room, unsure and confused. He'd only seen Alex twice and her hair had been different then, but he knew it was her instantly.

He stood up. "Alex?"

Alex crossed her arms. "Why do you get to decide Stevie's future?"

Warren blinked. "What?"

"I get that you're her brother and all, but MIA family members don't count—"

"Alex," Warren started, picking up his book from the ground and setting it on the table. "I want to talk to you, too, but I thought Stevie had told you by now—"

"Yeah, she already told me she's leaving—because of you—"

Warren shook his head. "Wait a second, that's not what I meant. Stevie's not coming to live with me."

He paused, then said, "Hasn't she said anything? She's decided to stay in Manhattan."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Alex was uncomfortably nursing a scorching hot cup of tea, sitting at the kitchen table with pursed lips and buzzing thoughts. Warren sat opposite, hands preoccupied by his own hot mug. Alex stared him down.

"I don't understand," she said, clutching the mug tighter. "She told me she was leaving just last night—and I'm talking Manhattan time." No one could tell her she was wrong; the pain was still fresh and searing within every functioning organ in her body.

Warren shook his head. "She just told me this morning, which meant she must've changed her mind literally right after she talked to you."

Surprise blanketed Alex's face, because it meant Stevie was as upset as she was—and had, apparently, done something about it.

Alex looked down into her tea, but never the type to avoid direction confrontation, eventually looked Warren straight in the face. "Why can't you move to Manhattan?"

The look on Warren's face was enough to tell Alex that he'd rejected the option with more thought than he'd let on. He sighed, then said, "It sounds easy, just pack up and move, but I have four years invested here—you've got to understand, Alex, my job, my apartment, my connections, they're all here. I can't drop that in a few weeks."

Begrudgingly, Alex had to admit that hadn't exactly crossed her mind. That Warren might actually, gasp, have a life established already. Yet with the sting of losing Stevie still acidic, Alex retaliated, "but you expect Stevie to?"

"No." He paused. "I'm not asking her to give up her life with you in New York, but right now I just want Stevie to know I'm here for her."

Even with Warren's words, Alex still felt abandoned, finding herself still looking for something to grab onto, like she was being pulled apart right then, just a bunch of scraps of skin and bone.

Warren looked very distant, a little worn as he tried to articulate the monumental reasoning behind everything that had gone down. "My sister, even as a kid, always knew who she was and what she wanted…" He paused. "But I think she's become tired...Unsure of where to go. She had everything mapped out until her magic was nearly stripped. It's a hard thing to pick up after something like that happens."

Even as she tried to deny everything, Alex knew there was more to Stevie's sadness than her failed identity. What meant more to her was her brother—that Warren Nichols was alive and breathing and ready to accept her, that she was so utterly willing to be in his life again, to form a shadow of a family and try to grant it substance just one more time.

"She feels like she failed you," Alex replied, drawing a finger around the rim of the mug. "Like she doesn't know how to…make things right."

The clock struck ten in the kitchen's background, echoing off the walls and sending chills through Alex's body. She took another breath as Warren started talking.

"I know she feels that way…I've told her time and time again that I'm not angry, but I don't think it's about that." Warren sipped his own tea. "I think Stevie needs to stay with me for a while, just so she won't feel so lost…or feel so much guilt anymore."

This hurt Alex more than she was expecting, because she had always felt that _she_ had helped center Stevie. Alex broke her stare and looked back down, slumping her chin into her propped up hand. "…I don't want her to leave me behind. I don't want her to forget me."

Maybe that was it. Stevie forgetting her. Moving on. Leaving her alone.

Warren smiled. "You know," he said, "all those weeks when Stevie's magic was on probation and she was stuck here all day, I asked her to keep old lady Jill next door company for a while." He stood up and walked out of the kitchen for a second before returning, holding a large piece of paper in his hand.

"Jill likes to make scrap-books, and she somehow managed to rope my sister into making her own page," Warren continued, and he set the paper down in front of Alex. "Here."

Alex glanced down at the paper and her eyebrows rose. It was green, covered in glitter, and embellished with swirls and…skulls? But what really drew all the attention was the five photos cluttered throughout it, each of Stevie and Alex together…all across the year they'd dated.

Alex stared. "She made this?" She didn't know what was more unbelievable, that Stevie had actually kept an old lady company, or that she had attempted arts and crafts.

"If you tell her I told you, I _will_ die, so please keep this between us." Warren smiled again. "My sister loves you. If she's willing to put up with glitter and glue to make a collage of your relationship, I don't think she could forget you even if she tried."

Alex watched the pictures again, and she suddenly found it hard to catch her breath. Her eyes stung, and she blinked back whatever was threatening to make an emotional idiot.

She picked up the piece of paper. Stevie…

* * *

An evening walk at nine-thirty in Manhattan was more idiotic than it was refreshing. Especially alone, when it was sort of like you were asking for it, blatantly, shamelessly. But Stevie wasn't mortally terrified by the people who wandered random streets at night, since she was one of them, or at least used to be. Big cities were all the same. New York's were just slightly more glamorous, holding opportunities to be mugged in front of the Met or the Statue of Liberty.

Stevie felt like a freezing cold mess. She couldn't cry, couldn't scream, but instead felt such a deep sense of melancholy wafting in her chest it was like she was being suffocated. She couldn't find a space to breathe, and it was making her head pulse in ways that made her wonder if her skull was a ticking bomb.

Her eyes were locked on the dirtied sidewalk as she strolled down 17th street, hands in pockets, thoughts lost to the sea of guilt and grief she felt locked inside her.

It had been a long two days, and most of that time had been spent staring at her cell phone, wondering if she should break down and call Alex. It wasn't a matter of stubbornness but of fear and anxiety, knowing that she couldn't face another fight again. There had even been a few times when Stevie had talked herself into magically appearing in the middle of Alex's bedroom, but that desire died down the second she remembered she was unofficially banned from Russo territory.

Maybe the night air was getting to her, but Stevie suddenly felt nostalgic for the simplicity of the old days, when the only thing you had to worry about was how fast you could run in the dark. Tseng had taught her that. A person's worth was measured by the speed of their feet and how many times you looked back while running. She tried to think of what Tseng would say to her now, pathetic and caught, but it had been too long. Tseng had turned into a distant, blurry memory.

She knew what Warren would say. Or rather, she knew how he would feel, because maybe taking in his younger sister brought the same closure Stevie felt by living with her older brother. Each was the variable that solved the equation. But hearing Warren's voice on the phone, his disappointment, his sadness….

Running her hands through her hair, Stevie stopped walking, trying to dissect her decisions in a way that made her feel like she was making the right ones, but in the end, all she could do was tear herself down. It wasn't the old her. Her confidence, once stabilized by her tough-as-nails demeanor, couldn't hold her up anymore. It made her feel vulnerable. She hated that.

When Stevie finally looked up, she froze in her steps.

Alex was sitting on a bench across the street. Fate was apparently less patient with their inevitable reunion than they were.

Stevie looked back and forth around her, wondering if she should cross and confront her girlfriend, or friend, whatever Alex had decided, and eventually her feet just started moving, and then she was crossing through parked cars and concrete like they weren't fighting, like she had to hear Alex's voice or just be near her to stay remotely sane. She missed her, she needed to talk to her…even if they were just going to yell and throw verbal jabs.

She needed to tell her she wasn't leaving. She wasn't leaving Manhattan.

Alex's form grew closer and closer as Stevie neared the park bench, her heart swelling with each footstep. She came up around the front. "Is it condescending to say it's dangerous to be out this late at night?" Stevie asked, sitting down next to Alex, hands still stored away. Okay, that wasn't so hard.

Alex didn't answer. Instead of expecting one, Stevie sat back and propped her legs up on the cement structure adjacent from the bench.

Alex didn't look amused, or angry, or…anything. She stared out at nothing, feeling perhaps a sense of surprise that Stevie just happened to be there, or better yet, feeling relief that Stevie hadn't hopped countries without saying a word.

Their silences together were never quiet, but instead were filled with a hushed dialogue of body language and lost glances, comfortable and measured. Even though they were fighting, both girls seemed to coast in the other's presence with a tranquility that said their fights were never coated in hatred or malice.

But even silences had there limits. Stevie's breath accelerated. If Alex didn't want to talk, she would.

Stevie glanced over and said, completely out of no where, "Do you want to get married?"

Her question was enough to startle Alex out of her reverie, and she glanced back to Stevie. "What?"

"Marry. Do you want to?"

Alex's eyebrows rose in unison. "You want us to get married? Are you kidding?"

Stevie snorted. "I didn't say I wanted us to get married. I just asked if you wanted to get married. Like, if you found the right person someday, would you tie the knot with them, that whole deal."

Alex crossed her arms. "I don't know." She slumped into the bench and leaned her head back against its edge, staring up into the night's darkened sky. "I'd rather just get the cake and the dress." Typical Alex Russo.

They fell back into a comfortable silence again, only this time it wasn't so cushioned, and finally, Alex sat up and blurted out, "What, you don't want us to get married?"

Stevie shrugged. "Not if you're just in it for the cake and the dress."

Alex rolled her eyes. "I'll try to expand my priorities a little." She paused, then took a deep breath. "Why aren't you moving to England anymore?"

Stevie looked slightly surprised. "Who told you that?"

"Warren." Alex locked eyes with her. "I had an angry, raging rant all planned out for him and then he completely ruined it by telling me you're staying. God, Stevie, I know we're fighting, but this second hand BS isn't really working out for me."

"I'll remember that." Stevie laced her own hands together, leaning forward and pressing on her knees. She sighed deeply. "You were right. You've cared about me more than my family ever has, and I turned my back on you the second Warren reappeared. I chose him over you, and I'm not okay with that."

Even though Alex was well passed feeling brutally betrayed, some part of her relished in Stevie's words, but that obnoxious little voice was immediately silenced when Alex shook her head back and forth. "No, you didn't." She stared back up at the sky, and then her shoulders dropped. "I don't know why I treat people like this. _I'm_ sorry, Stevie. I didn't want to lose you, and god, I'm so angry at myself right now I can't even stand it. I treated you like dirt."

"If I had been in your place I would've acted the same way." Stevie sat up. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know you didn't. I just felt so…betrayed. I don't want anyone else."

Stevie smiled, the words warm on her chest, but the smile quickly disappeared. "I know. I'm so sorry, Alex." Her hands unlaced, and Stevie lightly took Alex's hand in her own, bringing it to her lips and resting it there. It felt cold. "You know," Stevie murmured, thinking back to the very first time they ever were intimate together, "Sometimes I think it's so unreal, you and me—us. That first time in my room, you could've just said no, and none of this would've ever happened."

She was so grateful that it had.

Alex sighed. "I didn't really have a choice." She smirked. "You were just…hot. Your personality was, like, a bonus." Then she added, "Plus, I think you sort of seduced me, anyway."

It was the last answer Stevie was expecting, and she grinned. "What? Yeah right, you totally wanted me to kiss you!"

Alex shook her head. "I never said I wanted you to kiss me."

"Please, Alex, it's called body language. And yours was a flashing neon billboard sign." Stevie leaned in. "If I recall right, I'm pretty sure you used your tongue first."

"Because you seduced me."

"Uh-huh. And the bruises on my neck were from walking into a shelf. You took the reigns pretty quickly for being influenced."

Alex smirked back. "I'm just a fast learner. It's all part of that untapped potential everyone says I apparently have." She laced her hand with Stevie's.

They stared at each other for a second, and then Stevie's lips twitched, and both girls started chuckling under their breaths, which eventually turned into unbridled, shoulder-hunched laughing. It felt refreshing to hear some form of happiness overtake the silence that had only been good for long sobs and self-pity.

They left the bench as a reunited pair, holding hands that were masked by the darkened night. They didn't talk, they let their shoulders brush the other and their footsteps echo alone on the lonely street. When they got to Stevie's apartment, it was empty and full of shadows, and they climbed the staircase together, their clasped hands holding them close as they sifted through the darkness.

Stevie's room was cluttered and unpacked, evidence that she really had changed her mind. The relief Alex felt only lasted for a minute, her shoulders tensing again as she looked at Stevie.

The aftermath of their apology eventually sobered, and Alex took a long breath, squeezing Stevie's hand with her own. "…I think you should move to England with Warren."

Stevie, who was just about to sit down, stopped and stood back up, looking startled. "What? Why?"

Alex shrugged. "Because I think youwere right. You need to spend some time alone with your family….I mean, your real family. Even if I don't want you to leave."

Alex's support was utterly bittersweet. Stevie shook her head. "…I appreciate the support, Alex, but I've already made up my mind." A soft smile graced her lips. "I don't want to leave."

Alex smiled back, but hers was tinged with a unique sadness. She breathed in and said, "…We both know that's not true." She glanced down, staring at their hands. "I'll always want you to stay. But I've had time to think, and you need to go with Warren, Stevie…"

"Alex—"

"You're not who you used to be—and that's not a bad thing, it just means you're lost," Alex murmured, sounding far older than she really was, more poetic than she had ever been. She brought their clasped hands to her face. "I think going with Warren will help you feel better about yourself…Like you won't feel so bad anymore. It'll give you time to think." She locked her eyes with Stevie's. "It's the right way to go."

Stevie stared at her, hearing her words, a lump forming in her throat. "You said you didn't want to lose me. I don't want to lose you, either—" Her voice was quick and her words sounded rushed.

Stevie stopped in mid-sentence. They stood together like they always had, sharing the other's hurt, watching and waiting.

Stevie finally took a deep breath and nodded, knowing Alex only reflected buried feelings that couldn't be forgotten. "Thank you, Alex…"

It was a hard thing to know—that this was it, that their destinies had curled together only to untwine so quickly. It was a constant sense of disbelief that they were now supposed to go in opposite directions, that for everything they had achieved, it now meant very little. That Stevie was leaving. That she had to go.

Why?

Because Stevie needed to. Because Alex had to let her go. Because time was nearing its end. Because Warren was there. Because Warren wasn't there. Because they didn't know what the future held. Because it wasn't something meant for words. Because they loved each other. Because they couldn't ever forget.

Stevie cupped Alex's face and drank in a long, earnest kiss, drawing her body closer like it wasn't just beside her but far, far away, feeling the chill of her cheeks and the brush of her hair fall around her fingers. Alex clung at her waist, kissing her back, tasting her hot breath against her cool lips.

Maybe it was their sorrow that had brought them together, but it was an understanding that connected them now, eyes squeezed shut against the hurt of losing each other. Their shirts crumpled to the floor as Alex's fingers roamed across Stevie's bare shoulders and down her arms, lost in the other's presence, the past forgotten, the future on hold. Stevie kissed her neck as they fell onto the bed together, their quick breaths low and hushed. The taste of tongue and want, a covet they shared together, a longing for the other ran through their bodies as they lay together, lost in a sea of arms and legs.

They kicked off their clothes until nothing was left but raw, precious skin, and Stevie kissed Alex's collar bone, trailing down and down to her stomach, feeling her naked body beneath the lightness of her lips.

The night overtook them as they seemed to share their desires and fears, like they were one, saying, _I'll be here…_

_Please remember…I'll always be here_.

* * *

"What're you drawing?"

Alex didn't glance away from the canvas as she brought a piece of charcoal across its white surface, turning strokes of ash and shades of gray into a rainy, empty street. A girl stood at the very end, her back turned, her eyes gently glancing over her shoulder.

"Come see."

Stevie moved from the far side of Alex's bedroom, wrapping her arms around Alex's waist and kissing her neck, once, twice. She buried her face into her hair, hugging her against her body as she studied the sketch slowly, feeling a sense of distance, of sadness. She kissed Alex's shoulder.

"Why am I standing in the rain?" Stevie murmured, looking at the charcoal girl, knowing it was her.

"I don't know. Maybe I'm sick of summer." Alex set the charcoal piece down, staring at the drawing with soft eyes.

Stevie smiled. "I like it."

Alex leaned back into Stevie, feeling her heartbeat, hearing her breath. "Good."

It had been a hard three weeks, but today was pulling at her heart with a force so much unlike the other times. It was Stevie's last morning, and after weeks of acquiring passports, visas, and a lot other international jargon Alex didn't understand, Stevie was finally ready to leave. At least, it looked that way. Both she and Stevie knew it was a different story.

"Warren'll be here soon," Stevie whispered.

Alex's heart dropped a little. "I know." She turned around and stepped away from the canvas, wiping her soiled hands on the towel nearby. She looked back at Stevie. "…Let's go." She held out her hand, and Stevie laced her fingers through it, squeezing tight.

Even with Stevie's magic, international customs reigned supreme, and thus out of legal obligation Stevie had to travel to England the mortal way: by plane. Her things had already been shipped days ago, and Warren was stopping by to accompany Stevie to the airport.

The two girls trailed outside to Waverly Place, eyes on the ground. Warren was waiting outside. He nodded at them both warmly.

Time seemed to slow down then, when Stevie turned to look at Alex, her eyes gentle, understanding.

Alex swallowed and then smiled, but it was a weak one, just enough to say what she wanted it to.

Stevie smiled back and took her hand, pulling her into an embrace. In that moment, words could never describe the longing of their hold, or the softness of their breaths, a gentle sadness enveloping their bodies as they stood together, minds adrift from the hymn of the city, from the whispers of the streets.

They kissed a final time, and Stevie stepped away, bringing her lips to the palm of Alex's hand. "I love you," Stevie murmured, and when she let her hand fall, Alex felt a dull emptiness, a sudden desire to clasp it one more time.

Alex said she loved her, too, loved her more, but her voice descended into a hushed murmur, like only Stevie could hear her.

As Stevie moved toward Warren, she glanced back one more time, eyes mirroring the one she couldn't live without. She held up her wand, and as she disappeared, she lipped something inaudibly.

_Don't forget me. _

When her body vanished, it was like she had never been there, like Stevie Nichols had never walked along these sidewalks, her footsteps, her smirk, her smile no more.

She was gone.

Alex's eyes stung, a sense of emptiness filling her chest as she stood very much alone, like she was waiting for someone. Maybe there was a little hope, a little yearning. She waited. But there was no one.

She watched the street of Waverly Place with open eyes. She could only remember.

One February day months ago, she and Stevie walked down the street together as a pair, their necks in scarves and arms in jackets, boots crunching against the sidewalk's snow. They were laughing, and maybe it was the day or the air or the crisp chill of winter, but there was a calmness to their stroll that made time stand still, made the world at peace.

Alex leaned in and wrapped an arm around Stevie's waist, unafraid of public eyes. Stevie smiled, urged on by her fearlessness, and completed the half embrace, tugging an arm around Alex's shoulders.

They caught the other's glance, and Stevie leaned in and kissed Alex's cheek.

Alex pressed her face into Stevie's shoulder. She smiled.

_You and me. Together. _

_

* * *

_

**A/N: THERE IS AN EPILOGUE.** Calm down, because I know by now everyone is freaking out.

I really wanted this chapter to end with a good memory, so I'm glad I accomplished it! This chapter took forever, and it's the longest one in the story, a near whopping 7000 words. I really, really hope everyone liked it. I'm SO nervous about it. If you could tell me what you think, I would be eternally grateful!

I am so, so sorry I haven't replied to all of your amazing, thoughtful reviews, but I swear I will with this next chapter. You all taking the time to review has made me insanely happy, and everyone deserves a large round of thank yous. You guys are the most loyal readers ever! :)

I apologize for the errors, but I needed to get this out by tonight!


	12. The Way The World Ends

**EPILOGUE **

"(This Is) The Way The World Ends"

(happily)

* * *

_A Year and Six Months Later_

_

* * *

_

Walking into detention that morning, Stevie could tell in twelve varied fashions who ruled the school, who didn't, and who made it hell for everyone else. Her kind of people or not, Saturday detention housed a certain brand of delinquent that she a) liked to blackmail or b) liked to conspire with, either way equating to the kind of outcome that she found entertaining. But there was one girl in particular that had lit Stevie's interest with a flamethrower, and it wasn't going out.

Alex Russo was a total smartass. Together they verbally danced with nothing but burning sarcasm, and Stevie was utterly convinced she would be friends with this girl, among other things.

Then Alex had to go ruin it all by nearly sleeping through their entire first Saturday detention together.

Amused as she was, Stevie would've rather worked her charm on Alex for six hours instead of watching her sleep, but a sleeping Alex was something like a vulnerable one, and so Stevie watched. Alex slept with her mouth partially open and mumbled incoherencies that said she wasn't a light sleeper, but Stevie learned a lot about Alex Russo that day.

"You're kind of gorgeous," Stevie mumbled to her, sitting in a chair just opposite Alex's hammock. "I think I like you."

She stared at her face, then smirked and knocked the hammock with her foot a little. Alex didn't budge.

But that had been a long time ago. There was no more school. There was no more Alex.

Now, it was just…life.

"Well…are you?"

_Alex_…

"Hey, Stevie, I'm over here."

Stevie barely heard the voice in the background, slowly guiding her back to reality as the bits and pieces of her first encounter with Alex Russo faded into nothing. She looked up from her glass, blinking a few times as she registered the girl standing in front of a crowd of noisy partiers.

Stevie rubbed her face tiredly. "What?"

The girl looked exasperated. "Are you free this Saturday?"

In the background, Stevie could hear shouts for a drink, yet distractions ruled her brainwaves. She swore under her breath, then stopped midway through pouring together a mixture of vodka and orange juice, only to pour it out and start over again. She glanced toward the clock. "Yeah, I'm free, but I've told you twice before, I'm not interested, Lara. Back off, okay?"

Lara, who was a few inches taller than Stevie and brunette, threw Stevie a look of irritation. "But we kissed last night."

"Because I was drunk, and you weren't. Congratulations, you're a fucking awful friend." Stevie smiled toxically as she passed Lara a glass.

Lara sighed and took the drink from Stevie, sipping it. "I think you're lying."

"You just met me two months ago. You can't tell if I'm lying."

"When're you off?"

Stevie looked at the clock again, untying her waist apron and tossing it aside. "Now. See you later, Lara."

"Screw you, Nichols." Pause. "I meant that compassionately, in case I hurt your feelings."

Stevie gave her a look words could never describe, but the expression died down with a silence that was neither soft nor harsh, but melancholic. She shook her head and mumbled a goodbye, casting a set of eyes to the floor as she stuffed her hands into her coat pockets. It was cold outside, but on nights like these, she needed the alarming crispness.

The street lamps were lit and the world was busy on that Friday night, but even with the crowds, Stevie felt a stark distance from them.

She had learned a lot about herself in the year and a half she'd lived in England, but sometimes she forgot what it was exactly. The paranoia and confusion that had so closely governed her life two years ago was gone, now a dark memory Stevie didn't like to visit regularly. It had taken a while. England offered her a new slate, a chance to start over, but the past was ever present, and sometimes Stevie wondered if she could ever be the person she once was.

That was where Warren came in.

Her relationship with her brother had reached a point where they had somehow scrapped together a semblance of a family. Their guilt had warmed into a mutual comfort they shared together, supporting each other through the trials and tribulations of being alone. Warren had been promoted, and Stevie had gotten a job after graduating high school as a bar tender at a high-end night spot. They ate lunch together. They hung out. Warren listened when Stevie's anger overtook her. Stevie was there when Warren looked worn and depressed. They were each a sturdy wall to lean against.

Things were going well, their shoddy brother-sister dynamic now strong and secure. They had found out a few months ago that Barbs was living in California again, her relationship with her estranged children now completely destroyed and forgotten. Stevie would probably never see her mother again, which she didn't lose sleep over. Barbs was a part of a different life. Stevie had moved on.

But on some things, she had not.

Dating was something Stevie never got very good at in England, even though she could get a girlfriend just by introducing herself, if she wanted to. Her gang of friends included two potential love interests that Stevie could never have feelings for, and so she had ended up fairly alone without ever really trying. Lara Lopez was one of them, and Stevie was getting close to breaking her arm if she didn't back off soon.

It had become a tired game of denial and atonement until Stevie stopped it all and decided to grow up. There had been a few girls after Alex, but most lasted about one week before Stevie called it quits.

Flipping out her set of keys, Stevie unlocked the entrance to her shared apartment with Warren. It was passed midnight and dark inside, but Stevie saw a small light on in the kitchen, and so she pushed off her coat and strolled through the swinging door, finding Warren sitting at the table reading.

"It's late, I'm surprised you're up," Stevie commented, walking toward the fridge and opening the door. The fluorescent light hit her face harshly.

"I couldn't sleep…" Warren mumbled back, distracted by the last page of the chapter he was reading. He paused for a second before closing the book. "How was work?"

A box of takeout in her hand, Stevie slumped into the seat across from Warren. "Fine, but apparently I kissed Lara last night at her kickback and now she won't leave me alone."

"You don't remember?"

Stevie shrugged and then grinned. "No."

"It's probably for the best. I don't want to know what goes on during your nights of debauchery." Warren smiled. "Maybe she's a nice girl, Stevie. You might like her during normal daylight hours."

Stevie scoffed. "No." She paused. "Fine. I'll give Lara a chance if you say yes to that ugly slut at your work. You know, _that_ one."

'That ugly slut' consisted of Warren's twenty-six-year-old co-worker Wanda, who just happened to wear her clothes two sizes too small and had unsuccessfully tried to coax Warren into dating her for the last year.

Warren's face dropped. "She still won't talk to me after what you said to her."

Irritated one day, Stevie had run into Wanda and told her something along the lines of _stop shopping in the fucking juniors' section, _which had not won Stevie or Warren any popularity contests.

"So what? You didn't want to date her, who cares?" Stevie replied back. She dug into her food, relaxing into the silence that usually came with their late night conversations.

Warren had a look on his face that said he probably did care, at least a little more than Stevie did, but he dismissed it and went back to his book.

Stevie sighed and leaned back in her seat. It had been a long day, but today was an exceptionally difficult one. Eight hours on her feet serving drunken beautiful people had its perks, but it was understandably irritating after a while, and Lara had been bugging her for at least an hour and a half before her shift ended.

She had thought of Alex throughout most of it, and these days, it seemed like Alex was all she thought about.

The first time she'd ever met Alex—that one fateful day in detention—had flooded back into her mind all throughout her shift.

And she knew why, too.

"You know," Stevie murmured, staring into her box of food, "today would've been our two-and-a-half year anniversary."

She'd been thinking about it for weeks now, knowing another huge milestone in her previous relationship with Alex was drawing near. She always remembered their anniversaries. She couldn't seem to ignore them, which was a flashing warning sign if there ever was one.

Warren glanced up from his book. "Did you call her?" Warren was Warren, meaning he didn't need the details to know what was up, and he knew exactly who Stevie was talking about.

Stevie shook her head. "What would I say? I can't even think about it without wanting to lock myself in my room for three days."

"Is that why you said no to Lara?"

"No. I said no to Lara because she's a fucking moron." Stevie sighed.

"So, how long has this been going on?"

"What?"

"…You haven't talked about Alex in a while. This is sort of unexpected."

It wasn't, at least not really. Even with an entire ocean and a couple years separating them, Stevie couldn't shake the memory of Alex, stuck to her like a ghost in mourning.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. _I don't know why. _She looked at Warren. "I need to talk to you about something."

Warren laced his hands together. "Go ahead." He smiled warmly. "But I think I know what it is."

* * *

As an unmotivated junior in high school who liked her weekends just as much as the next teenager, Alex had a designated amount of Saturdays she was willing to give up for detention with Mr. Laritate. It was two a quarter if she could manage it, but who was she kidding? She couldn't manage her own locker. Lately she felt like she was spending all of her time in…the wild west. Ugh.

Surplus sleep was the only way she rationalized her seemingly endless presence in detention, and so when she pieced together her hammock and pillow, she was ready for a long, long nap with a break for lunch in-between.

But then that new girl had to go ruin it all.

Alex rarely acknowledged people because they had…feelings and stuff, and she liked to keep herself out of situations that involved laborious forms of…labor. Stevie—whatever her last name was, almost immediately proved to be a royally grand exception. Because she was, possibly, the coolest thing Alex had ever laid eyes on.

Or had ever been attracted to.

Wait, what?

Whatever that feeling was, she could practically feel Stevie staring at her as she tried to sleep, and eventually, Alex opened her eyes and glanced over to find she wasn't too far off. Stevie _was_ watching her, and she didn't try to hide it, either. No. For the first time in a long while, Alex felt floored, because Stevie actually _winked_. Like, _at_ her.

"Hi," Stevie greeted, throwing in a piercing, almost taunting smirk.

If it wasn't a game before, it sure was now, and like hell she would lose a battle of sarcasm. Alex lifted her head slightly, matching her smirk, and said, "If you want to share, just ask."

Stevie raised an eyebrow, taking the challenge by leaning in closer. "Oh, I never have to ask."

And that was it, the trigger, the spark, that made this new girl seem desirable, and Alex could never, ever forget the rush of heat that made her breath halt.

Even years later, Alex could still remember just what it felt like to be Stevie Nichols' number one target.

Now at nearly twenty, Alex was still sporting the motivation of a nine-year-old, resistant toward most forms of work but particularly toward anything her family asked her to do. She stared down at the decorative string of lights in her hand, then tossed them into a box on the ground. She didn't feel like hanging up them up. At all.

The Sub Station never looked that sparkling anyway, and they sold food—no one cared what their shop looked like as long as they didn't have cockroaches.

The annual Waverly Place Festival of Lights, or whatever it was called, was, admittedly, kind of pretty, and it was even enchanting, if Alex was feeling remotely romantic, which she wasn't. The first day of the fest had passed, and—surprise—she was already bored of it.

She glanced back at the lights, then shrugged and walked away.

She didn't have much to show lately. Out of high school and taking community college classes part time, Alex felt fairly bored and uninterested, knowing school was never her life's route and proving it by conveniently forgetting to sign up for her second semester. Her parents weren't too pleased by that, until they realized Alex wasn't a minor anymore and they could—lovingly—exploit all of her free time through shifts at the Sub Station.

Harper and Justin were both at their universities, and if Alex actually cared, she'd tell you the school's names. They were prestigious, expensive, and on the east coast, if that meant anything. Only she and Max were left, and it was weird. She'd never really noticed her little brother before. Now, most likely out of her own laziness, they watched a lot of television together and had bizarre conversations about aliens every other day.

"Yo, sis, can you tell the parents that I broke both my arms and that's why my side of the lights isn't done?" Max grumbled, yet he sounded amused, and then he grinned.

Alex raised an eyebrow. "I think they'll know."

Max shrugged, then dropped a string of lights into another box. "I'm getting pizza. Want some?"

"Yeah, make sure there's extra pepperoni," she replied back, totally recognizing that her grease in-take level made no sense for someone who weighed 100 pounds and had her figure.

So, this was what her ambitions had led her to. Bonding with Max and inhaling junk food.

"_I like the way you do that."_

"_Do what?"_

"…_Whatever you want."_

Alex stared blankly at a set of lights. Stevie's voice echoed coolly throughout her mind. She could remember that day, a few weeks after they'd first met, just talking. Stevie laughed and said, _"I like that you do what you want. Who cares, right?" _

Something like pain hit Alex squarely in the chest, and she glanced down to floor.

It had been a year and a half. Stevie was still in England. Alex was here. It was a simple equation.

Nothing had been easy in the last year. In fact, it was unfairly hard, and Alex waited, like many told her, for the relentless ache in her chest to die down, but it never really did. It stewed in the back of her brain every time she kissed a boy, in every new relationship. It was never sharp, but it was there, blending into the background with a dulled presence. It wasn't an obvious sort of pain, but it was the kind that said something was missing, something was out of place.

In the first two months of her and Stevie's break up, there had been times when neither girl could take it, and what seemed to be random visits to see each other turned into lengthy nights of unbridled longing and whispers in the dark. Magic made it easy. But it hurt. A lot. One always had to leave the next day.

Their spontaneous encounters eventually dissolved into frustration and a strange disillusionment, and the visits became less and less, until they stopped altogether. So did the phone calls. And the random letters. It had been a year and a half since Alex had really seen Stevie, leaving their feelings buried beneath a layer of time gone by.

Both knew it wasn't out of spite. It was out of hurt and hopelessness, knowing they could never move on if they kept trying to stay in the same place.

"You should try harder with Ryan," Harper had suggested one day, but Alex brushed her off. Ryan had been her most successful attempt at deviating from her irritating commitment problem, lasting an impressive four months before Alex broke it off like snapping a twig in half. It just wasn't there, and she was tired of trying. And then there were Jacob, Daniel, and Lesley, who were each personified life lessons that said all guys were walking jackasses. Nothing felt right.

There were times when she felt very, very old, but maybe it was a sign of growing up, and Alex just wasn't reading it right. Either way, the older she got, the more she felt something wasn't right.

With the festival in full swing, the streets were a tangible night sky, covered in manufactured stars and strings of light bulbs, drifting together in hues of light blue and gold. The darkness around her swarmed beneath the glows and twinkles of the makeshift night, and a festival of lights was born. It was a little mesmerizing, even sort of beautiful the way the sparkles were separate in their glow, like each really was a burning star.

Alex hugged her arms around herself, feeling the peak of the night's chill against her skin. Nearly everyone had gone home by then, leaving the festival in a state of tranquil emptiness.

As Alex walked along the empty streets, she slowly made her way upstairs. The rooftop gardens were a silent wonderland of dim blue lights that gave the scene a glow of winter, reflecting off each other in a way that made it seem like snow was falling.

She stared at an imported tree, it's leaves embellished with lights.

What was she doing?

Alex had no clue. She never did. The future was a big, blurry storm of different roads she could take, but her disinterest and general lack of ambition kept her where she'd always been. There was a dim spark of things she knew she wanted: her own art studio and a gallery were the clearest, but they had never really been overshadowed in the first place. They were reserved for a grown-up Alex. It was the Alex Russo right now that wasn't sure where she was supposed to go.

She wondered if Stevie still felt lost. She wondered if England had even helped, or if it had just served as one big obnoxious land mass that had separated them. She wondered if Stevie had moved on.

There were times when Alex thought about leaving. Just packing up and taking off. Her parents were happy together. Her friends were off at college. Her room was collecting dust. She wanted to go to France and draw pictures of two-story buildings, cobblestone roads, and the people crossing them.

Alex smirked. Maybe she would do that. Just leave. See what happens.

Alex was about to turn around, when she noticed that there was already a figure standing near the distant, twinkling tree. It was a girl's body, a bag swung over her back, and she had shoulder length hair. Alex stared at her from the side, feeling like she'd seen that shoulder frame before, leaning on her left hip like that. The jacket fit her body well, and her jeans were ripped.

Alex peered in closer, and then her eyes widened.

It couldn't be.

She dropped her arms, and something must have possessed her then, taking over her voice and free will, because before she could stop herself, she had called out, "…Stevie?"

Call her pathetic and stationary, but Alex swore to whatever force was up there that the girl was Stevie Nichols. And by the sudden acceleration of her heart rate, she knew she wasn't wrong.

Stevie turned slightly, showing her profile, and then smiled sadly, looking downward. "You cut your hair."

Alex had cut her hair, just above her shoulders.

Alex swallowed, never missing a beat. "You grew yours out."

And Stevie had, her hair brushing down around her neck to her shoulders.

Alex had never imagined what she would say to Stevie if she ever saw her again, mostly because she'd spent the last year and a half trying to forget about her. But now, standing twenty feet from the girl who she could never seem to get over, she felt lost of words.

Stevie looked good. Her hair was closer to one color now, and even with the pale blue lights around them, Alex could see the vibrancy in her complexion and the spark in her eyes. The pain of seeing Stevie standing in front of her was so raw and fresh that Alex couldn't believe time had passed at all.

Alex swallowed again, sharply, on edge. "…What're you—doing here?" she said, trying to snag Stevie's glance, her own words choppy.

Stevie looked up. "I don't know."

Something flashed through Alex's eyes, and her heart seemed to contract harshly. That wasn't the answer she had expected.

Stevie seemed resigned to saying nothing, and they stared at each other with a blanket of heaviness. Stevie took a deep breath, and then she looked back at the tree. "Sometimes I wonder if I even have the right to—to move on, when I was the one who left in the first place," Stevie said, staring at the ground again. "And then I realized—I can't keep doing this to myself." She ran a hand through her hair. "I just had to see you."

Alex felt something spark, and she didn't know if it was the feeling of being wanted by someone she couldn't have, or the pain of realizing she had never once been over Stevie. She could feel her eyes stinging. "Okay."

Stevie looked at her painfully, with longing, the hurt on her face breaking through the shadows cast down from the sky of lights.

Alex didn't know where it came from, maybe from that flicker of pain in her chest, but she suddenly felt entirely worn out. "I'm tired, Stevie. I'll never be like I was before the day we first met—and that's your fault," Alex said, her voice a little shaky.

Stevie stared, and then she looked down, bringing a hand to her eyes and covering them.

"I can't do this," Alex said boldly. "You can't just come back to see me one time."

"…I know."

"I thought that's why we stopped doing this. So we could move on."

"You're the one who wanted to stop. I never wanted to," Stevie countered.

Something flashed across Alex's face. "I didn't want to, either. But it wasn't working. It made things harder. You told me that." She stopped, then said, "If you've moved on, that's fine. But I haven't. So, this isn't fair."

The pain on Stevie's face seemed to renew itself, and she stepped forward. "You don't think it kills me, also? That even after almost a year and a half, I can't get over you?" Stevie shook her head. "How could you even think I'd ever move on?"

Alex felt her entire body tense at Stevie's confession, unsure what to say, momentarily frozen. So Stevie hadn't moved on.

Stevie brushed her own bangs from her face. "…So, I've decided to move back. To Manhattan."

It was like Alex hadn't heard her. She stared and stared, feeling her eyes sting as she watched the girl before her, wide and in disbelief. "What?" Her voice sounded like an echo.

"I want to be here—with you."

There was something then, like a jolt, something that fought with Alex as she wondered only once _is this happening_, and before she could stop herself, she was walking. She was running. Stevie had never seemed so far away as she did then, like if she didn't get close enough her heart would explode. She gave up. She stopped trying. She couldn't ever get over Stevie, and she didn't want to.

It happened so fast, and she wasn't even sure what happened first. All she could remember was grabbing Stevie's face and kissing her so hard their teeth clashed together.

Their lips met with a fury that said they should've never been apart, and somewhere in between their frantic embrace, Stevie's hands wound at her back, tying their bodies together with a fire that had never gone out.

Alex kissed her again and again, tasting her lips, kissing her jaw, holding on like she might leave again. Stevie kissed her back, drawing her hands over and up to Alex's shoulders, remembering the feel of Alex's skin and savoring it.

"Please tell me I heard you right," Alex murmured, stopping their kiss only long enough to verify what had just happened.

Stevie's lips found Alex's again as she pulled her impossibly closer. She kissed her long and urgently, brushing their tongues together and kissing her harder. She managed a fast, "I swear you heard me right."

Their kiss melted slowly, the desperation in their actions waning as their bodies relaxed, and Alex shifted her hands from Stevie's face to her shoulders, hands molding into the nap of her neck. Stevie's rested at her back, and they hugged.

It had never felt so good to be hugged. Alex kissed into the fabric just over Stevie's collar bone, trying to fight back the battlefield of tears she knew she should've spilled years ago. Feeling Stevie's body line with hers, their fit so matched, it was like every tensed muscle, every pent up feeling, warmed into a sense of utter relief.

"I can't even begin to describe how much I've missed you," Stevie said into her hair.

Alex hugged her tighter. "I thought I'd never see you again," she whispered.

They stood together in their embrace as the lights hung above them, both a little unsure if anything was real, if they were really together.

When they finally pulled back, Alex ran a hand through Stevie's hair. "I don't know what to say," she said, overwhelmed and compassionate. "Stevie, when did you get here?"

Stevie traced a hand down the side of Alex's face. "A little bit ago. I don't really know." She smiled lopsidedly, her eyes stinging and watery. "I just knew I had to get here."

"And you're staying?"

"I'm staying."

It was almost like a sense of déjà vu, returning gently to the night they fought, Alex feeling miserable and desperate, Stevie lost and heartbroken. It felt like decades ago, but it was so recent, still unbelievable and overwhelming.

They managed to sit down on a nearby bench, and Alex asked, "What about Warren?"

Stevie didn't seem thrown off by the question, or unsure, or nervous, but instead she glanced toward one of the decorated trees, watching the lights fondly. "It took me a really long time to stop feeling so bad about everything." She paused. "I think I still do. I still feel bad. But I think it's okay." She looked back at Alex. "Warren helped me find myself again…if that even makes sense, I don't know. And I think, because of that, we've gotten to a point where the past doesn't matter anymore." She raised her shoulders and then dropped them. "I feel like I have a brother now, like a real family."

Alex leaned in closer and said, "I'm happy for you," which was the absolute truth, because Alex was rarely happy for anyone but herself.

Then the corners of Stevie's lips twitched, and she said, "Besides, Warren and I see each other so much he probably wants a break by now."

Alex didn't really believe that, picturing a future of Stevie and Warren randomly barging in on each other for the next ten years, until they broke down and moved to the same city. She smirked at the thought, then squeezed Stevie's hand.

They shifted their weight until they were both lying across the bench, and Alex felt content, and warm, and safe…It was real. Without hesitating, Alex placed her face near Stevie's neck, welcoming the feel of her longer hair. Stevie smiled again and wrapped her arms around the other girl.

"I want to marry you, Alex—you're the person I want to be with in fifty years," Stevie murmured, and even without seeing her face, she knew Alex was grinning.

"England's made you a sap, Stevie."

"It's not my fault; it's all that poetry they have over there."

Alex smirked. "Whatever you say. But I have a proposition."

Stevie smirked back. "Okay."

"What's your opinion on traveling?"

"Depends on the variables."

Alex grinned and pressed her lips to Stevie's neck, kissing her skin softly. "What about traveling…with me?"

"I like the sound of this so far. When?"

Alex shook her head. "I don't know. But I want to see new things…I want to go around the world while I still have my powers…and I think we should do this together. I want you with me."

When they first met, Alex could always tell what Stevie was thinking by her smile. And the utterly vibrant, mischievous grin crossing Stevie's face told her exactly just what she was thinking. Stevie said, "I'm in. Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere. And Paris. "

"I like this idea more and more," Stevie replied playfully.

"I think it makes sense. Therefore it makes sense."

Stevie traced another set of fingers up and down Alex's shoulder blade, grinning. "Ah, Alex-logic. I've missed that." Maybe they were both a little on cloud nine, lost in thinking of a future that included them together. Stevie's face cooled just slightly, her grin melting into a hushed smile, and she said, "Thank you.'

Alex sat up slightly, breathing a laugh and scrunching her brow. "For what?"

"…For not forgetting."

There had been times, and more times, when both had wanted to forget, and move on, and see that new horizon, but it became very clear as the months passed by, that they could never, ever forget.

Alex smiled. "You're such a sap."

"You know you love it," Stevie smiled back.

They laughed together lightly, and Stevie pressed her lips to Alex's, kissing her one more time.

Alex closed her eyes.

* * *

_So I pass across your burning form,_

_kissing you - compact and planetary,_

_my dove, my globe._

-**End**

* * *

**A/N: **I want these two to get married and grow old together. I hope, above all, that through this story I've shown how much they utterly, truly love each other. I hope I've shown how much potential this couple has. And finally, I hope I have developed Stevie's character and made her into a real human being with feelings.

The ending three lines are from the poem "**Handful of Earth" by Pablo Neruda**. Fitting, huh? ;) The title of this story and the title of this chapter are two lines from T.S. Eliot's "The Hollow Men".

But I really want to say thank you to everyone—signed, anonymous, or maybe just quietly reading—who have given this story a chance. The Stevie/Alex fandom is a very small community, and I'm still in awe that _Not With A Bang_ has gotten so much love. You all are amazing for taking the time to write down your words of encouragement. Thank you so much. :)


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